The Story of You and Me
by whutnot
Summary: Irene is a business woman who meets someone at a fundraiser who she never expected to like as much as she does.  AU. Irene/Teresa
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** So, I was drawing and I sketched a few AU pics of Irene, and then this story kind of popped into my head. I'm really just playing around with this while my muse refuses to work on ATYF. I don't usually do AU stuff, but hopefully this isn't too horrible. Hop you guys kind of enjoy it.

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><p>She sighed and pressed the call button on her desk. "Melissa, cancel my two o'clock appointment Monday.<p>

"_Of course, Ms. Winters,_" came the reply. Irene leaned back in her chair, kicking off her pumps. She really needed more time to finish running the numbers on the Brown account, but she had that Gala to go to. She only hoped that she would have enough time the next week to prepare the presentation. She sat back up and pressed the call button again.

"Actually, Melissa, what else do I have Monday that I can reschedule?"

"_You have an interview with Forbes and lunch with Dante from publishing."_

"I've already cancelled on Forbes twice," she mused. "If I do so again, they won't run the article at all. Call Dante's assistant, and send my regrets."

"_Of course, Ms. Winters."_ Irene pulled the Brown account out, and began crunching the numbers, pausing every so often to sit up and pop her back. Her chiropractor hated this time of year. Or perhaps he looked forward to it since it meant that Irene was in his office more, paying him more money.

After what seemed like only a few minutes, she looked at her clock and was startled to see that it was already close to five. She grimaced and told Melissa that she could go home. Picking up her briefcase and slipping her feet back into her shoes, she strode out of her office, saying a quick goodbye to the few people who were still working. Most people usually left early on Fridays if they could, which Irene allowed. Her people worked hard, and they deserved to spend that extra time with their families. Just because she had no one at home did not mean that she was not aware of the difficulties of balancing a career and a family. She liked to think that her understanding had given her a good name with her employees.

When she emerged onto the street, the doorman already had a cab waiting for her.

"Thank you, Edward," she said.

"You have that Gala tonight, Ms. Winters?" he asked as he opened the door for her.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'll have to mingle with all those air-headed actresses. They invited that Teresa Blackwell." She shook her head. "I swear...Just because she moved to New York from LA and has brought a bit of media attention to the foundation."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be the classiest lady there," Edward assured her. Irene smiled softly.

"Thank you. I'll do my best." She slipped into the cab and gave Edward a last nod as she shut the door behind her. During the ride, she calculated just how long she had to make herself presentable, having second-or was it third-thoughts about the dress she had picked. It looked so good in the store, but she knew that when she put it on for the Gala, it would not live up to the image she had in her mind. Irene rubbed her brow, angry at her foolishness. As long as she did not look like a hag, it would not matter. She had no one to impress. She did not care about image like all those actresses would. This was her event, her charity, her cause. She had started it when she was just twenty-five freshly graduated with her master's in Business from Yale. It had grown steadily since then, and now that she was in such a high position at one of the largest firms in the country, she had the resources to give it the attention it deserved. Which had also meant that she had been forced to set up a board of trustees, who made decisions sometimes regardless of her feelings. Like inviting high profile celebrities to the semi-annual Gala.

The cab pulled up in front of her townhouse and she paid the driver before getting out and heading up the stairs. She debated whether or not she should make something to eat before she got dressed, knowing that there would be food at the event, but also knowing that all those celebrities would be judging her on how much food she put on her plate. Irene glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. She was thin and athletic, and she knew that. She did not feel the pressure to starve herself to stay thin. She was just naturally that way. In fact, she usually ate like a horse. Her fast metabolism and her almost daily runs kept her in shape while allowing her to eat what she wanted. She just did not like the way people's eyes followed her at these events and would do whatever she could to avoid them.

So Irene popped a frozen meal in the microwave, smiling wryly at the fact that she brought in more money each year than most people saw in their entire lives yet she still ate frozen dinners. While the timer counted down, she kicked off her shoes and removed her suit, hanging it carefully in the closet. One more use before she needed to have it cleaned. She threw her shirt in the hamper and sat down on the bed to take off her hose.

The microwave beeped just as she pulled on a t-shirt, and she ate quickly, knowing that it would take forever to do her hair. She took pride in the fact that she did not use a hairstylist or makeup artist for these events. Irene always tried to keep one foot grounded.

Two hours later, she cocked her head to the side, her long earrings brushing her bare shoulder. The dress looked...good. Very good. A sweetheart neckline with a halter around her neck and a draping piece of fabric over each arm. It was dark blue, bordering on a deep purple, contrasting against her pale skin. It hugged her torso, amplifying her modest cleavage and distinguishing her slim waist before floating away at her hips. She had pulled her hair up into a sweeping twist on the back of her head, frowning at how exposed her ears were. As usual, she contemplated if she should have surgery to correct them. They had been the butt of many jokes in her youth. Her nickname in high school had been Mrs. Spock. A rare genetic condition had caused them to grow pointed at the ends, much like an elf. By now, she had become used to the looks, the stares, and most people in her circle of acquaintances both in her private and business lives did not even look twice at them.

She gave herself one last appraising look before heading down to meet the cab she had called, her heels clicking on the hard floor. She was one of the first to arrive at the event, not wanting to get caught up in the throngs of people on the carpet. Unenthusiastically, she posed for pictures and stopped to talk to the reporters, giving her practiced spiel about the foundation and why she had started it. As she was approaching the last reporter, she heard an excited uproar behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she suppressed a groan. The cause of the ruckus was none other than Teresa Blackwell, smiling charmingly at all the photogs. Irene had seen her enough in movies and on the covers of magazines to recognize her. She was quite beautiful, as most actresses tended to be. Her long, black hair fell in cascades around her shoulders and she wore a dark green gown which hugged her ample curves. If Irene had not been so irritated by the woman's presence, she would have very much enjoyed the view. As it was, she turned back to the reporter to give her last sound bite before heading inside.

Irene mingled as she was expected to, talking to the right people, making sure to give attention to the most valued donors. When she was about to take a seat out of the way, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Teresa Blackwell smiling at her.

"Irene Winters?" Her voice sent wonderful little shivers down Irene's spine. It was low and smooth and sensual. But she did not let any of that show on her face.

"Yes?"

"Teresa Blackwell." Teresa stuck out her hand, which Irene took reluctantly. The actress's grip was surprisingly firm, her hand soft and elegant. "So nice to actually meet you!" Her voice was enthusiastic, but held none of them falseness of other actresses Irene had met. It was warm and genuine. "I've admired your work for several years now. Well, your work in the charity that is. I'm afraid I don't much have a head for business." She smiled that beautiful, charming smile of hers and Irene's heart fluttered.

"Oh, well...thank you," she managed to say without sounding too pathetic. "It is a cause that is very dear to me." Teresa's expression turned somber.

"Yes. Your mother was afflicted, right?" Ilena nodded.

"That's right."

"I understand," Teresa continued. "My sister...well, she died when I was young, and when I found out about your foundation, I knew I needed to use what publicity I could to make people pay attention. Of course, I know that what I do is nothing to the work you put into it, but I try." Irene regarded her thoughtfully. This woman was different from the others. She still spoke in that practiced, rehearsed, gushy way that Irene had come to associate with actresses, but there was something else behind it. An intelligence in her eyes, a sincerity in her words. It was...intriguing.

"We appreciate any support we can get." She found herself returning Teresa's smile.

"Would you like a drink?" The question startled Irene, but she answered in the affirmative, following Teresa through the throngs of people to the open bar. The brunette asked for two martinis and handed Irene one of them. Irene took a sip, aware that Teresa was watching her intently. "You don't like these things, do you?" Teresa asked, indicating the crowd. Unsure of her purpose, Irene hesitated. She always thought that she did a rather decent job pretending that she found the events bearable at the very least.

"They're not my favorite things, no," she finally answered, wondering why she was being so honest with this woman she had just met. "I'm not much of a people person." She gave a wry smile and Teresa let out a hearty laugh.

"I gathered as much."

"I do these because it's what's expected of me, and it's good for the Foundation." She took another sip of her drink. "I really would rather be working. I had to move around several meetings to prepare for this."

"Sounds tedious," Teresa chimed. "Do you often work late on Friday nights?" Irene thought that Teresa's voice held some kind of suggestion but she did not let her brain finish that thought.

"I do. But usually just me. I don't make my employees stay." She always wanted people to know that she was not a slave driver. She had a heart despite her cool exterior. Her people did not fear her, they respected her. They knew she was fair and never got angry without reason. "It's my choice."

"Very admirable of you." Teresa smiled again. Irene tried not to stare at the brilliance of it all.

"I find that happy workers usually produce better results."

"Ah. Then how very pragmatic of you." Her smile widened, and Irene felt a reciprocating one tug at her own lips. "I've never been anyone's boss, so I don't really know what it would be like telling people what to do"

"You've never thrown a diva fit?" Teresa laughed, tossing her head back and exposing her long, slim neck. Irene wondered what it would be like to kiss along the pale column. Frustrated, she shook her head. The last thing she needed was to develop some pathetic schoolgirl crush on Teresa Blackwell.

"In my younger days, I may have," she admitted. "But I try to keep myself grounded. I know how lucky I am. There are dozens of actresses just as talented and just as pretty as me who could be here instead of me. I never want to take that for granted."

"Yes, I have similar thoughts about my own position in life." Irene had come from a wealthy family that could afford to give her an Ivy League education and the inheritance needed to start her Foundation. She always worked hard to feel like she had earned those blessings.

"Surely, though, you're not comparing what you do to what I do?" Teresa raised her brows. Irene opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure how to answer or if she had just gotten herself into trouble. Had she offended Teresa?

"I...uh, I didn't mean..."

"Relax, Irene," Teresa soothed. "I was just joking. You need to lighten up." She clapped Irene on the shoulder.

"I'll work on that," she promised.

It was nearly forty minutes later when one of her trustees managed to pry her away from the actress. They had been deep in philosophical thought about the validity of doctor assisted suicides, and Irene was surprised at how reluctant she was to part from Teresa. Irene did not see her again for the duration of the event, for the woman had slipped back into the crowd to talk with other people. A very large part of her was disappointed. It was the most fun she had had at a Gala in quite some time.

She made her leave as soon as was acceptable, walking into the now brisk night air to catch a cab. Before she could hail down one of the drivers, though, she heard a voice call her name. She turned around to see Teresa waving at her.

"Over here, Irene!" Irene walked over to her, feet screaming from being forced into the heels for so long. Teresa smiled brightly as she approached. "Are you leaving, too?"

"Yes. I have an important account that needs closing," she explained. "I really must get my rest."

"Why don't I give you a lift?" Teresa gestured to a limo waiting a little ways down the street. "No need to take a cab." Irene bit her bottom lip. There was no harm in accepting a ride, was there?

"Alright."

"Excellent." Teresa linked their arms, leading Irene to the limo. The driver hopped out to open the door and help them both in. Irene gave him her address and then sat back nervously to see Teresa watching her.

"Thank you for the ride," she said, twisting her purse in her hands.

"Of course." They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. "Can I ask you something?" Irene raised a brow expectantly. "You're gay, right?"

"I-Um, yes." It was no secret. She had never tried to hide who she was, and it had not been news for quite some time. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Teresa said. "I had just heard that, and wanted to clarify." Irene thought back to what she knew of Teresa, and recalled that she had been married once and had a child from that relationship. Not that that meant anything anymore.

"Well, I am," she repeated. Teresa turned to face her, one finger tapping her lips.

"I suppose it would be much too forward of me to ask if you'd like to come home with me," she mused. Irene started, eyes widening.

"I-what?"

"I think you're very attractive, Irene," Teresa explained. "But you're also smart and funny and driven. I really enjoyed talking with you tonight, and I know you liked talking with me, too." Irene's jaw hung slack as she listened to Teresa. "I've never propositioned someone before, but ….I really like you."

"I...I didn't know you were gay," was all Irene could manage. Teresa shrugged, flipping her hair over her pale shoulder. She was so beautiful. Part of Irene wanted desperately to throw caution to the wind and say 'yes,' to let Teresa take her home and have her way with her. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and brief images of her writhing under Teresa flashed through her mind. But she was too practical for that. She would never let go like that. Control was something she had perfected over the years. Her eyes fell to Teresa's breasts and she felt that control waver.

"I don't like to put labels on things." Teresa's voice brought her attention back up to the dark, glittering eyes. "Yeah, I was married, but that obviously worked out so well."

"Well...I'm flattered, really, but-"

"Of course." Teresa smiled thinly. "I was too aggressive. I have no idea how to approach women. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. It's fine." Irene tried to sound reassuring because she did not want Teresa to think she was being rude. "I mean, you're really beautiful-"

"You think so?"

"Um...yes." Irene blushed furiously at Teresa playful smile. "But I...I don't do things...spur of the moment."

"That's a shame," Teresa said, shaking her head. "I think you would have looked really lovely naked in my bed." Irene tried to cover the squeak that escaped her mouth with a cough, but she knew Teresa was not fooled. She reached into her purse and pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it. Confidently, she handed it to Irene, who saw that it was a phone number. "Call me. Maybe we could just get drinks some time. No pressure."

"Oh, well...I" The car had come to a stop in front of her building and Irene was at a loss for words.

"Just think about it," Teresa insisted gently. "I think this is your stop." Irene nodded and carefully slipped the piece of paper into her bag, before opening the door and getting out. "Goodbye, Irene," Teresa called. "It was lovely meeting you."

"You, too, Teresa." She watched the limo drive down the street before going upstairs. It had been a rather strange day.

The rest of her weekend passed uneventfully, and Irene became so caught up with closing the Brown account that she had almost forgotten about Teresa's number which she had stuck on her refrigerator. That was, until Melissa called into her office Thursday morning.

"_There's a woman on line two asking for you, Ms. Winters." _Irene frowned. That was a private line and very few people knew that number.

"Who is it, Melissa?"

"_She says she's Teresa Blackwell."_ Irene gasped, surprised. "_Should I tell her you're out?"_

"No. Put her through." She picked up her phone and waited for Melissa to transfer the call. When she heard the tell-tale beep, she took a deep breath. "Irene Winters." She winced as soon as she said it. It was a much too formal way to answer. Teresa was not one of her business associates. This was obviously a personal call.

"_You never called me."_ Teresa's voice held a playful pout and Irene could almost imagine her bottom lip stuck out in a most adorable fashion.

"I was busy." she replied.

"_I'm sure."_ Irene had actually thought about calling, had even dialed the number, but she had never actually worked up the courage to press 'call.' "_But I got tired of waiting, so I called you instead."_

"How did you get this number?"

"_I have my ways." _There was a pause on the other end. "_Am I over stepping?"_ Irene was surprised by the nervousness of the question.

"Oh, um...No. I..." She hesitated. "I'm glad you called, actually."

"_Really?"_

"Yes." She bit her lip, glad that Teresa could not see the blush in her cheeks. "It gives me a nice break from work."

"_I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"_

"No." Irene leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on her desk. She glanced at her door. Melissa knew not to let anyone in if she had it shut. It meant she wanted some peace and quiet to crunch numbers. Still, she did not want anyone walking in on this conversation. "I was just going over a new account."

"_Don't you have underlings to take care of things like that?"_

"I like the more hands-on approach," Irene explained. "Besides, I only do this with the important accounts."

"_I see. Well, I called because I was wondering if maybe you'd like to get drinks with me tomorrow night."_ She sounded nervous and not at all like the confident woman Irene saw her as. _"I know this great place that has the best martinis. They have food, too, if you want." _Irene thought about it for a moment. There was really no reason not to. She liked Teresa, was attracted to her, and also had nothing to do on a Friday night except work, which was really kind of sad. And it had been...a long time since she had dated.

"I would actually like that, yes," she said after a while. "Where is this place? Should I meet you there?"

"_I can pick you up,"_ Teresa said hopefully, as if she would prefer it that way. Irene frowned. She did not know if she wanted to rely on Teresa for transportation...just in case. Teresa must have sensed her hesitation. _"Or not. That's okay. Is that weird? Was it weird to offer?"_

"Oh, I...I don't really know," Irene admitted. She had very little experience when it came to these kinds of things. As confident and well versed as she was in the world of business, she had about as much experience as a high school freshman in when it came to dating. She had been in love twice and both times it had ended...poorly. Since her last relationship, she had guarded herself against that kind of pain, never letting anyone close enough to hurt her. It had been a lonely existence, and her brain was screaming at her to stop whatever it was she thought she was doing with Teresa Blackwell. But her heart answered instead. "But...um...if it's really not too much trouble, I wouldn't mind riding with you," she said softly, hating that she sounded so shy. She was a grown woman, for goodness sake.

"_Oh! It's no trouble at all."_ Teresa sounded relieved. _"Should I pick you up at, say, seven? And we can grab a bite to eat, too?"_

"That sounds good." Irene smiled, feeling silly and foolish but also a tad giddy. "I'll um...I'll see you tomorrow then."

"_Can I at least have your cell number?"_

"Right. Yes, I suppose that would be helpful."

"_Just a little." _ Irene grinned before rattling off the numbers, listening as Teresa repeated each of them as she wrote them down.

"Got it?"

"_Yep. Okay, then. I'll let you get back to work. See you later."_

"Bye." She hung up the phone and glanced at the clock, wishing it was the next day, but also terrified at the same time. What was she supposed to wear? Was this a formal date, or...just drinks? Teresa had said supper, so that meant it was more than just drinks, but how dressed up should she get? Irene groaned and cradled her head in her hands, wondering what to do with her hair and her makeup. She sucked up her courage and pressed the call button. "Melissa? Would you come in here for a moment?"

"_Of course."_ Seconds later, her door opened and Melissa stepped inside.

"Shut the door please, and have a seat." Her assistant obeyed, looking nervous. Irene put on a reassuring smile. "Relax, you're not in trouble or anything. I have a more...personal reason."

"Oh. Okay." Melissa was surprised, which was only logical. In the three years she had worked for Irene, she had not once been called into the office for anything other than work. "Um, what can I help you with?"

"This may be ...odd for me to ask, but...If I were to go to a dinner and then drinks with someone, would that be considered a date?" Melissa blinked at her a few times before regaining her senses.

"Is she picking you up, or are you arriving separately?"

"She's picking me up."

"Then that's a date," Melissa told her confidently. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small 'O.' "Are you ….if it's not too personal...are you going out with Teresa Blackwell?"

"This is strictly between the two of us," Irene warned. The last thing she needed was to be splashed all over page six.

"Of course, Ms. Winters." She knew she could trust Melissa. "But...no, never mind."

"What is it?"

"It's just that...Teresa Blackwell is always followed by the paparazzi. I'll do my best to keep you out of the gossip columns, but...I'm only human."

"Thank you, Melissa. I appreciate the concern." Melissa really was one of the best assistants she had ever had, if not the very best. "I will be careful. Besides, it's just drinks and no one even knows she's interested in women. We could just be two friends who met at a fundraiser." She thought about something else. "I don't know how open she is about her orientation, so make sure nothing gets leaked from this office." The threat was clear in her voice.

"Of course. I would never..."

"I know, Melissa. Just covering my bases." She hesitated before her next question. "I hate to ask this, but I really think you may be my only option. What...what should I wear?" If Melissa was surprised, she did not show it. She was so professional. Irene really wished that she would be able to give Christmas bonuses this year. With the economy the way it was, she was not sure if that would happen.

"I would say probably a nice pair of jean and some nice heels. A semi-casual shirt. It's just a first date, right?" Irene nodded. "And if you're getting drinks, then nothing too fancy, but you still want to look good. I'd say wear your hair down, too."

"Yes, I was wondering about that, as well." She ran a hand along her hair which was pulled back in a half-pony tail today and secured by a silver clip, which almost blended in. People always wondered why she never dyed her hair. It had started to go grey as early as high school, but she never felt the need. The color looked good, and in the business world, it gave her a strange kind of credibility. She looked more mature than her years and people took her more seriously. "Alright, then. Thank you, Melissa. I appreciate your help and your discretion." Melissa recognized the dismissal and rose with a nod.

Irene worked for two more hours before heading home. Her cell buzzed while she was in the cab. She looked down. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"_Just making sure you didn't give me a phony number."_ Teresa. Irene suppressed a smile, aware of the cab driver. She doubted if he could speak enough English to catch her conversation, but she still did not like talking on the phone in public unless it was strictly business.

"Did you really think I would do that?"

"_No, not really,"_ Teresa said, chuckling. _"I just wanted an excuse to call you again. You're done with work, right? I don't want to take you away from anything important."_

"I'm on my way home now, actually." How was it that talking with Teresa felt so natural already? It did not feel like they had only met less than a week earlier. "I have to scrounge around in my closet for something to wear tomorrow that isn't completely hideous." Teresa laughed on the other end.

"_I'm sure that you will outshine everyone there."_

"You're just saying that because you want to get me in bed."

"_Is it working?"_ Irene could almost see her wiggle her dark, elegant brows.

"I'll let you know tomorrow night." She was flirting. She could not believe it. It had been years and years since she had flirted with anyone.

"_Well, I'll just have to really lay on the charm, then. So how was the rest of your day? Incredibly boring without me?"_

"Absolutely. I don't know how I managed to get through it." She relaxed as she told Teresa about the accounts she had been working on, making sure to keep it from being too boring. But Teresa seemed to be rapt. She even asked some intelligent and informed questions, which Irene answered with delight. She was back home, sitting at her kitchen table an hour later when they finally hung up. As she prepared her dinner, she could not help the excitement that welled in her at the thought of her date with Teresa.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **And here's chapter two of my modern times AU fic which I am not putting a whole lot of effort into. yep. This is really just something to do until my muse decides to cooperate on ch 20 of ATYF. hope you enjoy

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><p>She looked herself up and down in the mirror, frowning and turning to look at her ass. It looked alright, she thought. Not great but...adequate. She bet that Teresa's ass looked amazing in jeans. She did think that the shimmering, low cut top made her chest look good. But were the boots too much? She decided they were and quickly swapped them for ankle boots. Yes, that was much better. Her toned legs allowed her to pull of skinny jeans, and she liked the lines they created. She nodded once more at her reflection before sitting down at the kitchen table to wait. Teresa had said seven. It was six twenty.<p>

After an eternity, her phone rang and she answered it hurriedly. "Hello?"

"_Hey. I'm outside your building. Are you ready?" _Not wanting to seem pathetic, Irene shrugged, then remembered that Teresa would not be able to see it.

"Um, just about."

"_Okay, well, hurry up. It's been too long since I've seen you."_ Blushing, she grabbed her purse then put it back down. Who was paying? Teresa had been the one to ask her out which indicated that she would pay, but Irene was not terribly sure that Teresa would see it that way. After a moment's hesitation, she picked it up again. Better safe than sorry.

"I'm on my way down." She shoved her phone in her purse and trotted down the stairs and into the night air. Soon, she would have to break out her winter clothes, which she would enjoy. Winter was her favorite time of year, and not just because of her last name. She enjoyed the cold, and she especially enjoyed the clothes. They looked fierce on her.

Teresa was waiting for her at the curb, leaning against the hood of a black BMW. She was wearing jeans that hugged her hips, accentuating her impossibly long legs. Irene almost rolled her eyes when she saw that Teresa was wearing boots that went up over her knees, adorned with buckles and other hardware. She looked much more edgy than Irene had expected. Her top was mostly hidden under a pale leather jacket and her hair was pulled back, exposing her lovely face.

"Hi." Irene said lamely, wondering where her extensive vocabulary had gone.

"Hey there." Teresa smiled and pushed herself off the car. "Ready?"

"No driver?"

"Not tonight. I told you I'm not a diva." She raised a brow. "Let's get going." She opened the passenger side for Irene and ushered her in.

"I was half expecting a herd of paparazzi," Irene admitted. Teresa grimaced.

"That can happen." She sighed tiredly. "I know it's part of the deal but...It's really freaking weird to have people follow me all the time. But they're actually a lot nicer here than they were in LA. Something about New Yorkers. They don't really care who you are." Irene nodded. This much was true. No one on the streets ever looked twice at her ears. And if she thought about it, neither had Teresa. She had not once brought them up, and her eyes never lingered on them.

"Well, I'm glad they didn't show up." Irene looked out the window as they drove deeper into the city. She wondered where Teresa was going to park her car. "I'm not...I'm not really ready for my personal life to be all over the magazines." Teresa frowned and glanced over at her.

"Irene," she began slowly. "I do my best to keep my personal life out of the press, and I think I've done pretty well with my daughter, but you should know going into this that a...a relationship of any kind with me, no matter how...casual or how serious, is going to get attention. If you can't handle that, then I might as well turn around and take you back home now." Irene knew how serious the decision was. And she knew that if she did not give this thing with Teresa a shot, she would regret it. "I know it's incredibly early, but I wanted to be up front about it. So that you're prepared. I haven't ever dated a woman before, so that's bound to cause a stir. Are you going to be able to do this? Because I really do like you."

"I won't lie," Irene replied. "The prospect really does frighten me. I've never wanted to be in the public eye. But...I want to see where this goes." It was the most honest relationship talk she had ever had and it was with a woman she had yet to actually go on a date with.

"I'm really glad to hear that, Irene." Teresa smiled at her before looking out the window and pulling up to the curb in front of a small, sleepy looking bar. Miraculously, there was a space for her car, and she paid the meter while Irene got out.

"This is not quite what I was expecting," she said, surveying the establishment.

"Oh?" Teresa sounded intrigued. "And what were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Maybe more of a club type place."

"I haven't really been a clubber since I had Clare." Her daughter.

"No, I suppose having a child would not lend itself to such a lifestyle," Irene mused. She wanted to ask what the girl was doing now while her mother was out, but she did not think it was her place. Teresa might see that as an insult to her parenting skills and Irene did not want that.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything," Teresa said softly, and Irene's heart melted at the look in her eyes. "Anyway, let's go inside."

They seated themselves in one of the back booths and ordered a couple of drinks while they looked over the menu. It was mostly greasy, burger joint type foods, which Irene found refreshing. So often she had to sit and pretend to enjoy a fancy salad when all she wanted was to devour a basket of fries. They placed their orders and sipped their drinks.

"Did you close the Brown account?" Teresa asked.

"Yes. I think it all worked out rather well. We should be seeing an increase in sales next quarter."

"Just curious, but how much does someone in your position bring in every year?" That was not the kind of question Irene had been expecting, but she was starting to think that she should just be prepared to be surprised when she was with Teresa. "It's got to be a lot, right? That place you're living is pretty swanky."

"I do pretty well for myself," she said neutrally, stirring her drink. Irene did not like to discuss how much money she raked in every year because she knew exactly how horrible it was that she made so much while so many people went without. Her salary plus her inheritance added up to a good deal of money.

"Come on," Teresa insisted. "How much? I'll tell you mine. I get eight million a picture."

"That's quite a lot."

"I know. It's disgusting, really." She looked up into Teresa's dark eyes and saw that she meant that. "I try to give a lot to charity, but...there's that greedy part of me that wants to keep it, you know?"

"I do." She had battled with the same feelings herself.

"So tell me. How much do you make doing...whatever it is you do?" Irene leaned back and sighed. She supposed there was no harm letting Teresa know. She would not judge.

"I bring in four million a year from my salary and another seven million from my mother's assets which I inherited when she died." Teresa let out a low whistle, raising her brows.

"And now I see that you're actually living well below your means."

"I like to keep myself grounded," she said, using Teresa's words from the other day. They both smiled. "I pour a lot of that money into the foundation. I can't really think of anything better to do with it."

"It's a good cause." Teresa nodded resolutely. "Maybe I should donate more to it."

"You're already one of the most generous donors," Irene informed her. "You want to make sure your daughter still has something left to inherit."

"Clare is already going to start off with more than anyone should." Teresa paused as their food arrived. She poured ketchup on her plate before continuing. "I want her to always know just how lucky she is. I have a hard enough time remembering myself. She's never known anything different. I had already had my big break when she was born. I want her to know humility."

"I think that's good. You don't want her to end up like Paris Hilton."

Teresa snorted. "No, that would not be good at all."

"I don't know much about children," Irene lamented. "My brother is older than me and...well...I've never had the opportunity to start a family." She shifted uncomfortably. This was most certainly not the type of thing people talked about on first dates. But she did not think that Teresa was one to ever be bound by societal norms.

"Clare is...It's hard to put into words." Teresa had a faraway look on her face, and Irene watched her, entranced. "Being a mom is both the most rewarding and challenging thing I've ever done. And I do mean challenging. Sometimes I just want to drop her off at her dad's and leave her there until she's twenty-five. That or boarding school."

"Don't send her to boarding school," Irene said before she could stop herself.

"Oh?"

"Uh, yes. I...My parents sent me away and I...It was not the best time in my life." Which was an understatement. In fact, it had been the worst part of her life. The part where she had suffered from depression and had been sent to the shrink after a failed suicide attempt. She swallowed and looked down at her lap. Great. What a fantastic impression she must be making.

"Irene." She looked up at Teresa's gentle voice. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later. I don't want to scare you off just yet." She said it with humor, but Teresa did not smile.

"You won't. I promise." She stared at Irene intently until the other woman looked away, unsure of what she was feeling.

"I'm not...I'm not comfortable yet...talking about it." It was not a lie. She did not even like discussing it with her therapist. It was a dark time that she just wanted to forget. Since then, she had done everything and accomplished everything she had wanted. There was no reason to dwell on the past.

"Alright." Teresa let the subject drop. "Hey, why don't we get out of here and just go back to my place?"

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"That was the idea, yes." Teresa grinned, and Irene rolled her eyes.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I don't put out on the first date."

"Then I guess I'll just have to make sure there's a second." She called over the waitress and asked for the check.

"Is this together or separate?" the girl asked. Irene looked questioningly at Teresa, ready to pull out her wallet.

"Together. Give it to me," Teresa said. After she paid, Teresa led the way back to her car. Irene was curious to see where she lived, but part of her was a little terrified.

"Will...will your daughter be there?"

"You think I bring people home to meet her on the first date?"

"What? No...I just..." Irene trailed off, not sure how to get herself out of the hole she had made. "I only meant that...well, we're going to your place, where I assume she lives, and I...what else was I supposed to think?"

"She's with her father. He gets her every other weekend," Teresa explained. "It's part of the reason I moved us to New York, so she could be closer to him. He's a good man, just...not the one for me. I wanted to make sure he was still a big part of her life." Irene nodded, feeling guilty for having made Teresa justify herself. Then she felt her stomach knot up with nerves. She would be alone with Teresa in her home and she was not sure if her self-control would hold up. She knew that if Teresa asked, if she pushed, Irene would willingly give herself over to her desires. And she was very afraid that she would regret that later.

"Actually, Teresa," she piped up. "Could you just take me home? I'm feeling a bit tired."

"Oh...uh, sure." She looked out the windshield, not meeting Irene's eyes. "Yeah. Okay."

"Teresa-"

"No, it's okay." Teresa cut her off. "You don't have to explain to me. I thought things were going well, but I guess I was wrong."

"Teresa, I just need time to think, okay." She was a little on edge about how scary the thought of not seeing Teresa again was to her. This was something she very much needed to address, and she could not do that if she was spending a lot of time with Teresa. "I have a lot of things to think about. I do want to see you again. I..." she took a deep breath before plunging in. "I've never felt this kind of connection with someone before and it's just a little ….frightening. Just give me a couple of days. If you haven't heard from me by Monday, then you have my permission to call me."

"Oh." She relaxed visibly. "Okay. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."

"It's okay. I shouldn't have led that way." Irene folded her hands in her lap. "This isn't normal, is it?"

"What?"

"This...date." She glanced back at Teresa. "I mean, we've been talking about deeper things than most people do on first dates, right? I haven't even asked you what your favorite color is." Teresa chuckled.

"It's green. And you should know, I'm a Minnesota Vikings fan. Hardcore."

"The football team?"

"Yep. Clare and I go to as many games as we can."

"I like figure skating, and not just during the Olympics," Irene admitted. It was one of her guilty pleasures. She even paid for the fancy extra channels on cable so that she could watch it all season. It was really the only TV she watched. She did not have time for anything else. "And my favorite color is red."

"There," Teresa said with triumph. "Now we've had the normal first date conversation. Do you feel better now?"

"Marginally." The car pulled up in front of her building and she moved to get out. As she shut her door, Teresa exited the car and walked around the front to stand before her.

"Is it alright if I give you a goodnight kiss?" Irene tensed, torn between terror and desire.

"Yes," she breathed, heart pounding. Teresa looked up and down the street, probably searching for paparazzi, before leaning in to gently brush her lips against Irene's. It was short and chaste, but it left tingles running down her spine. Irene wanted more, but Teresa pulled back, smiling softly.

"Thank you," Teresa said with a smile.

"For what?"

"For the best first date I've ever had."

"All your other ones must have been complete rubbish then."

"Pretty much." She smiled a little wider before heading back to the driver's side. "Remember to call me this time. If you don't, I won't leave you alone on Monday." And then she and the car were gone, leaving Irene standing with her fingers against her lips on the sidewalk.

Irene spent the next two days fretting about what do to. It did occur to her that there was a possibility that Teresa was doing this as a publicity stunt. She did not think so, but she really did not know the woman well enough to say for sure. It was something celebrities sometimes did, and even though she did not get that vibe from Teresa, the paranoid part of her said to be extremely careful in this situation. Irene knew she would not be able to handle being used in such a way. However, she tried to keep a level head about it. Teresa had given her no reason so far to think that she would use her or treat her poorly.

On Saturday, she purposely filled her day with things that did not relate to Teresa Blackwell, and failed miserably when her favorite newsstand was selling copies of _Vogue_ with Teresa on the cover, smiling brightly at all who passed. She bought one. The article inside was all about how she balanced acting and her career with being a single parent. She sounded so sincere and down to earth and Irene could not help smiling as she read.

On Sunday, after a few hours of work in her home office, she took her sketchbook to Central Park and sat under a tree drawing all day. When she looked back at them later, almost all of her sketches were of Teresa.

So on Monday during her lunch break, she queued up Teresa's number in her phone, locked the door of her office, and pressed 'call.' It rang six times before the voicemail picked up.

"_Hello, you've reached Teresa's phone. I'm either asleep, with the kid, or I just don't like you. If you fall into the last category, and that means you Meryl Streep, then don't bother leaving a message. For everyone else, you know what to do." _ After the tone, Irene took a deep breath.

"Hello, Teresa. It's Irene Winters." She grimaced. Duh. "I called you like I promised." Duh, again. "Do you really hate Meryl Streep? I always got the impression that she was nice. Anyway, I...um...well...I'd like to see you again so...just call me back. Um, but not until later tonight, if that's okay. I have a lot of work to get through today. A lot of meetings. So...yes. Call me later." After she hung up, she stared at the phone, wishing that she had said almost everything differently. "I am such an idiot," she muttered.

She spent the rest of the day obsessively checking her phone to see if Teresa had called her back. Through all of her meetings, she could think of nothing else. It was noticeable and Melissa pulled her aside to ask if she was alright.

"I'm fine. Just a bit...preoccupied."

"If you're sure, Ms. Winters."

"I am." Her tone held a finality that Melissa knew better than to challenge. She gave a nod and returned to her desk, shooting Irene one last questioning look before returning to work

Finally, around six-thirty, after most people had left and she had sent Melissa home, her phone lit up, buzzing against the glass of her desk. The noise startled her and she dropped her pen in her haste to answer.

"Hello?"

"_Meryl is actually a dear friend of mine. We enjoy giving each other a hard time."_

"Didn't she win an Oscar over you?" Irene smiled as her heart rate slowed to a more normal pace.

"_Her? No. That year we were both beat out by that bitch Cate Blanchett."_ Teresa chuckled. _"We decided to start a club called the 'I hate Cate Blanchett Club." I'm the president and Meryl is the vice president. But you'll never guess who the secretary is."_

"I don't know. Angelina Jolie?" she offered. Teresa snorted.

"_Close, but no. It's none other than Cate Blanchett herself."_

"How did that happen?" Irene asked, brows raised. It was surreal to realize that Teresa actually knew all of these people, was apparently friends with some of them.

"_Well, she was nominated twice in the same category, so when she won for one role, she lost for the other. At the after party, she came up to me and said 'Can you believe that hag Cate Blanchett beat us? I hate that cow.'"_ Teresa put on a horrible Australian accent that had Irene almost laughing. _"So I invited her join the club, and she said yes."_

"Well, I don't really pay much attention to celebrities, but she is one of the ones I don't find completely irritating." Irene decided that she might as well head home now. She would not get much more work done that night. Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she packed up her briefcase and slipped on the pumps that she had taken off earlier before flicking off the lights and heading out.

"_Oh, is that so? What did you think about me?"_ Irene debated what to say, not sure if the truth would go over well. But she knew she always wanted to be honest with Teresa. After her last relationship, she knew that even small lies would only do damage in the long run.

"Honestly?" she began as she pressed the button for the elevator. "I hadn't paid all that much attention to you."

"_Ouch. I'm hurt."_ She could tell that Teresa was teasing, though.

"I actually think this is a good thing," Irene explained. "That way I don't have unrealistic expectations. I mean, you don't want to date someone who expects you to be perfect all the time, do you?"

"_Not really. You are very wise, Irene Winters."_

"That's why they pay me the big bucks." She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. "But I did always think you were good at what you did. Not like that hack, Meryl Streep." She smiled wryly as Teresa laughed on the other end.

"_Okay. It's official. I can't wait until the weekend to see you again. Do you have any free time for lunch tomorrow or Wednesday?"_

"I'll have to check with Melissa, but I think I can do lunch Wednesday." Eating together in the middle of the day, however, meant that there was a much greater chance of them being seen. Irene sighed, the knot of nerves already forming in her stomach.

"_What is it, Irene?"_

"I...I'm just concerned about...I need to feel secure in this before I can handle being dragged through the tabloids."

"_Can I do anything to make you feel more secure?"_ Teresa's voice grew low and serious. _"Because I really want to be able to take you places, and not have you worried all the time."_ Irene took a deep breath, composing herself as she stepped into the lobby. She lowered her voice so that no prying ears could hear.

"I need...I need to know something, and I need you to not be offended that I asked."

"_Okay."_

"Is this...is this just some publicity stunt?" Silence met her. "I mean, are you just pretending to be a lesbian so that you can get the publicity and then dump me once you've gotten enough press?" More silence. Irene bit her lip as she hailed a cab. "Please don't...don't take this the wrong way. I ….it's just something I had to ask."

"_I understand."_ Irene let out the breath she had been holding. Teresa did not sound mad or hurt. _"Sometimes I forget that most people don't have to deal with everything I do. I guess I should look at this from your perspective, too. This isn't a stunt. I admit, it's not something I've ever done before, really. I mean...You're so much...more than anyone I've ever been with, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt or use you."_

"Okay. That's all I needed to hear. Thank you."

"_So is that a 'yes' for lunch?"_

"It is. I'll make room in my schedule." She opened the door to a cab and told her address to the driver before leaning back against the seat. "I had a lot of time to think over the weekend, and I am fully prepared to do this with you."

"_I'm really happy about that. Very happy."_ Irene heard a small voice in the background ask what was for dinner and was startled to realize that the owner must be Teresa's daughter. She had almost forgotten. Teresa did not talk too much about Clare yet. Being involved with a woman who already had a child did not bother Irene. At her age, it was not strange. People were always surprised to find out that she was unmarried with no children. _"Can you hold on just a sec? Clare's being needy."_

"Sure." She heard what she thought was the sound of Teresa putting down the phone, and there was some murmuring. Irene glanced out the window of the cab as she waited, watching the passing lights of the city. She could hear Teresa and Clare decide on macaroni and cheese, the girl squealing excitedly, and Teresa laughing. It was such a beautiful laugh. The cab stopped in front of her building and she paid the driver. She was halfway up the stairs when Teresa got back on.

"_Sorry about that. Growing girl and all."_

"Of course. That's perfectly fine." She dropped her briefcase in the front hall and kicked off her shoes. "If you need to go, that's okay, too." She did not want to intrude upon Teresa's time with her daughter. As much as she wanted to keep talking with Teresa, she also wanted to make sure she never overstepped. The last thing she wanted was for Teresa to resent her.

"_No, not yet," _Teresa insisted. _"Clare's going to make her own food tonight. She knows how. I'm just going to supervise her."_

"How old is she?" Irene was genuinely interested in learning more about the girl. If she and Teresa ever got serious, she supposed Clare would become a big part of her life. She did not know if she was ready for a child. It had never been one of her priorities. But it was part of the package with Teresa.

"_How old are you now, Clare?" _Teresa called. _"Twenty-five, thirty?"_ Clare giggled in the background and Irene heard her answer that she was eleven, and then she called Teresa silly. _"She says she's eleven, but I'm not sure. I think she might be lying to me. She can't be a day younger than twenty."_ Clare giggled again, and Irene's chest tightened in a most pleasant way. She could tell that Teresa was putting on a show for the girl, and the interaction was so...natural. Just another thing to add to the extensive list of things that made Teresa irresistible.

"Well, I certainly would not have been able to cook anything on my own when I was eleven," she confessed. "In fact, I'm not much of a cook now. I mostly eat frozen meals when I'm at home."

"_With all that money?"_ Teresa sounded slightly surprised. _"You don't even have a cook?"_

"This isn't LA," she reminded Teresa. "I'm a single woman in her thirties. I don't have any us for a cook."

"_You don't have to be single for much longer, if you don't want to."_

"We've only had one date," Irene said, a little startled. "You want to make it official already?"

"_Well, I won't send out a public statement or anything,"_ Teresa promised. _"At least not until you're ready. But...I don't want to be dating anyone else, so...I'd like it if we could just go ahead and call ourselves exclusive."_

"That...that would be good for me, too." Exclusive. She was in an exclusive relationship with Teresa Blackwell, Oscar nominated actress, one of People Magazine's most beautiful people. She wondered when she would wake up from this strange dream she had been thrust into. Because there was no way this was real.

"_Okay. Good. I have to go now. I don't let anything get in the way of my dinner time with Clare."_

"Of course."

"_I'll see you Wednesday. Should I call you before then?"_

"I would like that very much."

"_Okay. Then I will call you sometime tomorrow. Goodnight, Irene."_

"Goodnight, Teresa." She hung up, grinning foolishly, and made her way to the kitchen to make herself some dinner. Now she just had to figure out what to wear Wednesday that was both work appropriate and also good enough to impress Teresa.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Sorry if there are typos. I was too lazy to do more than one proof reading.

* * *

><p>The lunch went off without a hitch, and their faces did not end up in the tabloids the next day, so Irene felt more comfortable agreeing to meet Teresa for lunch again in the future. And they did meet again that Saturday while Clare was at her ballet lesson. And then again the following Monday after Irene moved around a few meetings. Melissa had raised a brow but had said nothing. Wednesday, they met for an early dinner, Clare' nanny taking care of the girl.<p>

"So, where does Clare think you are right now," Irene asked as she pushed her salad around on its plate. They always seemed to meet when Clare was either at school, some kind of lesson, or with her father, which had led Irene to believe that Teresa was not yet ready for her daughter to know of their relationship.

"Eating with you," Teresa replied, stuffing a fork full of lettuce in her mouth. Irene raised her brows, surprised.

"Really? I didn't think she knew yet," Irene said casually, silently pleased. "It's a bit early, isn't it?" Teresa shrugged as she wiped her mouth on a napkin.

"I try not to lie to her unless absolutely necessary," she explained. "She's too smart. She sees through them." There was a hint of pride in her voice.

"What does she think?" Irene asked nervously. She knew that Clare's approval was vital to the future of their budding relationship.

"About what?"

Irene rolled her eyes. "About the health care bill," she snipped. "About this, of course. About you dating a woman. I mean, you'd never indicated lesbian tendencies to her before, had you?"

"No. Not since she was born." Teresa scrunched up her nose, thinking. "Actually, I did have one fling with a woman when she was seven, but that was a onetime thing, and she was too young to know." Irene decided to ignore the fact that Teresa had been with women before for the moment to focus on the more important issue of Clare.

"But you told her about me?"

"She knows your name," Teresa began. "And she knows we're more than just friends. She's only ever lived in incredibly liberal cities, so she's familiar with same sex couples. Her best friend in LA had two daddies."

"So how did she react when you told her?" Irene had discovered that Teresa really enjoyed talking about Clare. It had taken a little time to get her to open up about her daughter, but once she started, she had trouble stopping. It was to be expected. Teresa was between movies at the moment, and as such, she spent a lot more time with Clare and doing typical mom things that she sometimes missed out on while on set for a film.

"At first she was angry," Teresa said honestly. "And a little confused. Then she decided it was 'cool.' Apparently there are lesbians on some doctor show that her father lets her watch."

"Well, I suppose that's good."

"Yeah, lesbians are big right now," Teresa said, swirling her wine around in its glass. "But I made sure she knew that she couldn't tell anyone yet. Only her nanny knows."

"My assistant guessed," Irene informed her. "When you called the office...Well, I asked her a few questions about...what to expect from a first date, and she put two and two together. Really, it's better that she knows. That way she will be prepared for damage control if we should ever need it." Teresa nodded, pausing as the waitress brought their food.

"That's probably wise," she said once they were alone again. "I should probably tell mine. Or my publicist or something." Irene smiled, amused. Teresa had told her about all the times she had made a decision and her publicist had been the last person to know.

"Do you ever tell her anything?"

"Not that I can recall." Teresa returned the smile.

"Then what's the point of paying her?"

"It's too much fun to watch her scramble," Teresa explained. "I know she must hate me, but the money's good, and she likes to tell people that she works for me."

"You must be a huge pain in the ass."

"I do my best."

The next time they met was to help Teresa pick out a new end table for her living room. Clare was with her father. Irene was concerned about them shopping together, but they were both on their very best behavior. No displays of affection at all, which was becoming harder and harder for Irene. The store had closed so that Teresa could shop without being bothered, and she dropped a staggering amount of money on a few mahogany pieces.

"That was excessive," Irene commented as the salesclerk went into the back of the store to write up the order. Teresa had bought from them before, and they knew what to do about delivery.

"It was, wasn't it?" Teresa sighed. "But I do have an eye for mahogany. It's such a lovely wood, and so hard to find now a days. Gotta go to special places like this."

"Well, I can't fault your taste," Irene said. "Those were beautiful pieces."

"It's really one of the few things that I'll spend so much on," Teresa said with a nod, leaning against the counter.

"That and shoes." Irene raised a brow at Teresa's scandalized look. "Don't give me that look. I know all about your shoe collection."

"How do you know that?" Teresa asked, glancing back as the sales clerk returned.

"I read it in Vogue," Irene replied, dropping her voice. Teresa just shook her head as she turned back around to pay for the furniture.

"You read too much."

"And you have too many shoes."

It had not really been a date. It had just been the two of them spending some time together outside of a restaurant. It had been...nice, and it had given Irene access to a different side of Teresa. She knew that the two of them needed to experience each other in different settings in order to know if their relationship had what it took to last. She had enjoyed every minute of it.

Soon, Irene found herself becoming distracted during meetings, doodling sketches of Teresa on her briefs. Melissa took her aside one day and asked if everything was alright.

"Of course it is," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a bit...distracted," Melissa answered quietly. "I don't want to pry or anything. I know it's not my place, but...is everything going well...personally?" It was one of the most personal questions she had ever asked. She hesitated before answering, not sure how much she wanted Melissa to know. Taking a deep breath, Irene decided that Melissa was professional enough that she would not be a danger to her or Teresa.

"Things are going very well," she said slowly. "In fact, I think I might need to sit down with you and talk about what we should do if my relationship with Teresa should ever be exposed before we are ready."

"Of course, Ms. Winters."

"You know I hate to ask this," Irene began, "but do you think you might be able to stay a little late tomorrow? I don't want to take time out of the work day for it." She really did hate asking Melissa to stay late. She knew the woman had a life to get back to. She was engaged and in the middle of planning a wedding.

"It's no problem at all," Melissa replied with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Melissa." Irene's sincerity surprised the both of them. Melissa's cheeks colored ever so slightly and she nodded.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, for now." Irene was very glad that she had hired Melissa as a replacement for her last assistant. Stephanie had been a horrible gossip, and more inclined to unprofessional tendencies than Irene thought was allowable. She had fired the woman after only two weeks. Melissa had been with her for nearly four years now, and Irene hoped never to lose her. She would be very hard to replace. "Oh, could you call Harold in management and ask if we could move our meeting tomorrow up to three?"

"Of course, Ms. Winters." Melissa walked back over to her desk to dial the number as Irene left for another lunch with Teresa. They had started to really fall into a rhythm, and Irene really felt like she had known Teresa all her life, as cliché and corny as that sounded. Irene was always reserved in her relationships until she was sure that the other person was as committed as she was. Then she gave herself fully and completely. Irene was slightly frightened that she felt her heart telling her to go all in with Teresa. They had only been dating for a few weeks, and Irene had never, in her entire life, felt so strongly about another person, and she did not know why.

"I told my parents about you," Teresa said over dinner the following Sunday, startling Irene who nearly choked on her wine.

"You did?" She set down her fork in apprehension, waiting for Teresa to elaborate. Irene knew that Teresa was from a moderate Texas family, and that she had never given her parents any reason to think that she was anything but completely heterosexual. This would come as a very big shock to them. It was a shock to Irene that Teresa had felt confident enough in their relationship to jeopardize her relationship with her parents by telling them. Irene had still not told her father, knowing that he would not approve of Teresa. If her mother had still been alive, she might have risked it, but as it were, she and her father barely spoke at the best of times.

"Yes." Teresa sighed heavily. "They were pretty angry for a while. There was a lot of yelling and crying on my mom's part. My father kept saying that he didn't understand. Hadn't I been married? It was a …..long conversation. We hung up on less than great terms"

"I'm sorry." Irene did not know what else to say. Teresa shook her head lightly.

"Don't apologize, Irene," she instructed gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides," She leaned back in her chair and smiled, "it turned out well."

"It did?"

"Yes. My mother called me later that night and said 'Teresa.'" She put on a slow drawl, exaggerating the Texan accent. "'I don't rightly understand, and I'm not sure I ever will, but I know my daughter, and if you say you're happy, then I know you must be telling the truth, and I only want you to be happy.'"

Irene felt her heart squeeze, and she was not sure if she would be able to contain her emotions for a moment. "You're happy with me?"

"You couldn't tell?" Teresa's eyes were soft and kind.

"I had hoped so...but..." Irene looked down at her plate, suddenly feeling very exposed in the restaurant even though they were sitting in a booth at the back. "It's just that we haven't been together all that long." Teresa looked carefully to her right, back out into the rest of the restaurant before reaching across the table to take Irene's hand in her own.

"I can honestly say that this is the happiest I've been in a very long time." She let their hands break apart as the waitress brought the check. Teresa paid, yet again, even though Irene had offered several times to pick up her share of the checks. "Anyway," she continued as they left, "my mom called me a few more times to ask about you and about, you know, the whole dating women thing. I told her that I was dating one woman, thank you very much, not all of them. She was like 'oh, child, you know what I mean.'" Teresa placed a hand gently on the small of Irene's back as she steered her to the car. "'Now, darlin', just tell me about this girl. Is she respectable? Does she go to church?'"

"Church?" Irene raised a brow as she dipped into the passenger side of the car. Teresa grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah. She's a good old southern girl. Born in Alabama and moved to Texas for college where she met my dad." Teresa hopped in next to her, turning the key and putting the car into gear. "Her life revolves around football and Jesus. In that order. Go Longhorns." She held up her hand, pinky and index fingers extended with the others curled over her palm in a gesture that Irene had only associated with rock music before.

"Well, what did you tell her?"

"That churches tended to frown upon lesbianism." Teresa looked behind them before pulling out into the street. "She said that was okay as long as you knew Jesus loves you." She let out a low chuckle. "I swear, sometimes that woman is so out of touch with reality."

"She sounds sweet," Irene said diplomatically.

"She has good intentions," Teresa said. "She doesn't really understand, but she's trying. You already have an invitation to Christmas, by the way. Clare spends Thanksgiving with her father's family, but she's all ours for Christmas, and my mom goes all out." Irene was too stunned to speak, but Teresa barely noticed. "She wants to meet you. She says that I've never talked about any of my boyfriends the way I talk about you." She glanced back at the other woman. "Irene? Are you okay?"

"No one's ever invited me home to meet their parents before," she answered mechanically.

"You don't have to come if it will make you feel uncomfortable," Teresa assured her. "I can tell her you want to spend it with your own family." Irene almost snorted. She had not told Teresa much about her past and her relationship with her family, which consisted of herself, her father, and her brother. Even though they all lived in the same city, they had not spent a Christmas together since her mother had died. She usually just called her father Christmas morning, and they talked for an uncomfortable ten minutes before hanging up. She and her brother were on better terms, but he was married and spent Christmas with his wife's family in Chicago.

"No, I want to go," she said hurriedly. "I want to meet your parents, but...what if they don't like me?"

"They can just deal with it," Teresa answered firmly. "But my mom's too much of a southern lady to be mean to you to your face, so don't worry about that."

"I suppose I'll have to meet Clare sometime before that," Irene said cautiously.

"I suppose so." Teresa glanced quickly at her, not taking her eyes off the road for very long. "I want her to become more used to this before you meet her, though."

"Of course. I wasn't trying to push the matter."

"I know. I'm just glad that you _want_ to meet her," Teresa admitted. "It's hard to find someone who can accept that I have a child from a previous relationship and that I'm still friends with her father."

"Have you told Chris about us yet?" Chris was Clare's father. He was a photographer for National Geographic and could spend months out of the year overseas. When he was stateside, he tried to stay very involved in Clare's life. From what Irene could tell, he was a very good father to the girl, even if he was not around as much as she needed.

"Not yet. I haven't been able to think up the right words. It's hard to tell your ex that you're interested in chicks now."

"Yes, I guess that would be an awkward conversation," Irene agreed.

"I just don't want him to think that he turned me gay or anything. I've always been attracted to women as well as men."

"Does he know that," Irene asked quietly. She was trying her hardest to not let herself feel jealous of Teresa's past relationships. They did not matter now. She was the one sitting across the table from Teresa. She was the one who was invited to Christmas.

"No." Teresa smiled wryly. "I suppose that would have been a rather good indication that our marriage was doomed to fail. If I didn't want to tell him something like that, then it's not surprising that our relationship was...unhealthy." Teresa always tried to steer the conversation away from her marriage to Chris. Irene knew that he had been the one to file for divorce but that they had both agreed that it was the right decision. Beyond that, Teresa kept quiet, and Irene did not want to push. She knew that she would need to know the reasons one day, just to ensure that their own relationship did not suffer the same mistakes.

"Just out of curiosity." Irene tried to sound casual, but Teresa's eyes narrowed and she put down her fork indicating that Irene had failed. "How many women have you...been with?" Teresa pursed her lips in thought.

"Three."

"Oh." Irene felt odd as she realized that Teresa had been with more women than she had. Suddenly her appetite was gone and she laid her fork on her plate, trying not to let Teresa know that something was wrong.

"What is it, Irene?" So she had failed again. Why was it that she could never hide her feelings with Teresa? At work, she was always cold, calm, and collected. People had deemed her the 'Ice Queen.' She never gave anything away, and her poker face was legendary. But when it came to Teresa, she lost all of that.

"That's more than I expected," she said softly. Teresa frowned, confused.

"Is that a problem?" Her brows knitted together. "I didn't think you would care. You've been with other women, too."

Irene looked down at her lap as her cheeks colored. "I've only had two sexual partners in my entire life," she whispered, ashamed. Teresa's eyes widened.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Teresa was looking at her strangely. "Why are you apologizing for that?"

"You have more experience than I do." She hated how small her voice sounded. Where was the confident woman who ruled her office with an iron fist? The one who never backed down from a challenge?

"Irene, those were all flings," Teresa explained gently. "Nothing serious. I assure you, I really don't have any idea what I'm doing most of the time, and I certainly don't know what to do with a woman in bed. All three told me that I was merely adequate." Irene looked back up to see the sincerity in Teresa's eyes, and she felt slightly better. Both her partners had been pleased with abilities, though she was not sure now if she trusted them. Both had ended up lying to her about important things, and she had to reevaluate every aspect of those relationships. She wished she was not so broken for Teresa.

"Yours were committed relationships, right?" Teresa asked.

"Well, I was committed, at least," Irene muttered. Teresa, for the first time since Irene had met her, was at a loss for words. She took Irene's hand in hers and held it tight, not caring who saw.

That night, when Teresa kissed her goodnight, it was slow and soft, but there was something else underneath. An intense desire that Irene could feel resonating through her entire body. Teresa pulled them into the shadows next to Irene's building, her arms wrapped tight around the business woman. They continued like that for quite some time before Irene gently pushed Teresa back.

"I think it's time to call it a night," she said with a small smile. "I had a wonderful evening, Teresa. Thank you." Teresa leaned in to give her nose one last small kiss.

"Clare has piano lessons tomorrow, but she's going over to a friend's house Wednesday. I have an awesome Greek place I want to take you."

"Are you going to let me pay this time?"

"Absolutely not." Teresa walked her to the door, gave her another sound kiss and marched back to the car she insisted on driving.

When Irene was back inside her kitchen, she stared at the phone a few minutes before making a decision. She dialed a number she seldom did.

"_Hello?"_ The voice that answered was female.

"Sharon? It's Irene."

"_Oh, hey!" _her brothers' wife exclaimed. The two of them got along well, though they rarely saw each other. It was always nice to talk to her. _"How are you? Is everything alright?" _It was a legitimate question. Irene never called unless it was a holiday, someone's birthday, or someone was in trouble.

"Everything's fine. I'm doing really well, thank you." She shrugged off her jacket and took off her shoes. "Is Paul home?" She glanced at the clock. It was just a little after nine.

"_Yeah, he's in the study. Let me go get him."_ Irene waited patiently while Sharon retrieved her brother.

"_Ren?"_ He was the only one who called her that. _"What's going on? Has Dad finally kicked it?"_ If her relationship with her father was cold, her brother's relationship with him was nonexistent. Paul had basically been cut from her father's will after he married Sharon, a girl from a poor working class family of immigrants. Not fitting for the heir to the Winters fortune. Now, Irene stood to inherit it all, which would work out for Paul anyway. She had no intention of keeping all the money herself. She would make sure Paul got his share. In the meantime, though, he had been forced to make his own way in the world, becoming a regional manager of a very important bank. He did not make as much money as Irene did, but he and Sharon lived very comfortably. They were expecting their first child after years of trying.

"Sadly, no," Irene joked. "He just called me a few days ago to see if you were still alive."

"_So glad he still cares,"_ Paul drawled. _"Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with you?"_

"Well, I wanted you to know that I ….I've met someone." Irene knew that Paul would be supportive. He knew what it was like to fall in love with someone that their father hated.

"_That's great Ren! It's been too long since you had someone. Is it anyone I know?"_

"Kind of," Irene said. "And you're probably not going to believe me, but I promise I'm not lying."

"_Of course not. Irene Winters doesn't lie."_ Not if she could help it. _"So, who is it?"_

"Teresa Blackwell."

"_The actress?"_

"The very one."

"_Damn, Ren."_ Paul whistled low. _"She's hot. And famous...and I thought she was married or something."_

"She used to be, but she's not anymore." She stifled a yawn. She had been up very early that morning to finish some paperwork. "I met her at the Gala for the foundation." Irene paused, frowning. "I don't recall seeing you there, Paul." He usually tried to make it since it was in honor of their mother.

"_Sharon wasn't feeling well," _he explained. _"The doctor doesn't want her to put too much of a strain on herself. You know."_ Sharon was a little old for a first time mother, and both she and Paul were worried about the baby.

"Of course. That's perfectly understandable." It would not have mattered anyway. She had spent most of the night with Teresa. "Is she feeling better? She's due soon, right?"

"_She's feeling fine now. She's got another five weeks."_

"You're going to name the kid after me, right?"

Paul laughed heartily. _"Of course. But you're changing the subject. Tell me more about this Teresa. I want to know who's awesome enough to make my sister call me to tell me about her."_ Paul was so insightful sometimes. He knew that it took a lot for a person to impress Irene, and even more for her to tell him about them. She spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with her brother, telling him all about Teresa, impressing on him the importance of not letting anyone know. It was the longest conversation they had had in quite some time. Irene always wondered why that was. She supposed they were just both so busy with their work that they forgot how long it had been since they had last talked. She made a promise to herself that she would make more of an effort to keep connected with her brother.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **There's like, some sexy times and stuff in this chapter. just so you know. Not quite and M rating, I don't think, but yeah...

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><p>After over month of carefully avoiding the paparazzi, and meeting for lunch or dinner in secluded places, Irene was completely convinced that Teresa really was interested in her as a real relationship and not a publicity stunt. They talked every day, usually for at least an hour, if not longer when time permitted. Irene knew that she was falling for this woman, and she was terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Each night when she was lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, she could not help but wonder what it would be like to have Teresa there in be next to her. They had moved slowly in their sexual relationship. Irene knew that Teresa was well aware of her reservations about jumping into bed so early in their relationship. She had given herself to her first girlfriend and had regretted it ever since. The woman had ended up cheating on her with a man, and it had almost ruined Irene for any future relationships. But Teresa was so incredibly understanding, had been such a gentleman about the whole thing and had not pushed Irene farther than she was comfortable. Which was why she was so nervous about their next date and what she planned to do.<p>

It was a Saturday night, and Clare, whom Irene had yet to meet, was spending the weekend at her father's. Earlier that week, Teresa had called Irene and asked if she would like to come over for a home-cooked dinner and maybe just a night on the couch with a good movie. They would be alone. In Teresa's home. Irene had come to the decision that it was time to take a chance on Teresa. It was time to put her trust in the other woman.

She arrived at Teresa's building, which overlooked Central Park, at ten till six, and the doorman let her in, expecting her. Teresa was unsurprised to see Irene ten minutes early. She was used to it by now.

"Hey." She smiled and leaned in to kiss Irene softly as she pulled them both inside and shut the door behind them. Irene let her eyes flutter shut as Teresa wrapped her arms around her waist. Kissing Teresa was like jumping off a cliff and trusting that her parachute would open. She got a rush in her stomach and her heart thudded in her chest, and this feeling had not diminished as time went on. When they pulled apart for breath, Irene returned the smile.

"Hey yourself." She looked around her, having never actually been to Teresa's home. It was cozy, but modern. Evidence of Clare's presence was all over the place. There was a schoolbag near the door, and a pair of child's sneakers in the hall. "You're place is beautiful," she said, turning around to take in more. "Do I get a tour?"

"Of course," Teresa said. "This is the front hall. Obviously. Or Clare's closet." She waved her hand at the coat and shoes left in the floor. "I suppose I should have cleaned up a bit."

"It's fine." Irene felt that having those little reminders of Teresa's child would help her keep a level head about all this. Teresa put her hands on Irene's hips and spun her around, pushing her down the hall. She showed Irene the kitchen, living room, home office, her bedroom, the guest bedroom (the door to Clare's room was closed), the dining room, the bathrooms, her exercise room, and a den. It was a modest apartment for how much money Irene knew Teresa had, even in New York where the cost of living was so high.

"So when do I get to see your place?" Teresa asked as they walked back to the kitchen.

"You've seen it."

"Only from the outside!" Teresa motioned for Irene to take a seat at the kitchen table, while she turned to check the food on the stove. "I want to see how you decorate."

"It's not that interesting, I assure you." Her style was crisp and clean. She did not feel much need to put many embellishments in her home.

"Are you trying to say that you don't want me to see it?" Teresa's tone was light as she stirred one of the pots, but Irene heard the apprehension behind it.

"That's not what I meant at all," Irene assured her. "I would very much like you to come over. But we'll have to either eat out or order in." Teresa relaxed and turned back to smile at Irene as she poured rice on two plates, followed by asparagus.

"I think I can handle that." She pulled two chicken breasts out of the oven. One for each of them. She placed one of the plates in front of Irene and then sat down across the table from her.

"This looks very good." She cut into the chicken and was pleasantly surprised by its tenderness and favor. "And it tastes even better.

"It's nothing special, but...I thought that cooking for you would be a nice change of pace."

"It is." Irene looked across at Teresa before taking a sip of her wine. "I'm very impressed."

"See," Teresa smiled triumphantly. "I have many talents." There was a very strong suggestion in her words and Irene blushed as she put down her glass.

"Apparently so. Do you do windows, too?" She raised a brow and Teresa laughed.

"Not anymore. I have people for that now. I'm just doing my part keeping New York employed."

"I'm sure." Irene rolled her eyes as she continued to eat. "Well, this is so much more than what I could have done."

"I'm sure you're just exaggerating," Teresa said, eyes twinkling.

"When I was sixteen, I almost got expelled from my fancy boarding school because I set the kitchen on fire," Irene informed her. "I was making pasta." Teresa laughed appreciatively while Irene smiled tightly, not liking to bring up anything from that time.

"In that case, leave the cooking to me." She regarded Irene a moment longer, her smile falling slightly. "Irene..."

"Not yet, Teresa." Irene looked down at her plate. Teresa had been getting closer and closer to the reason why Irene hated her time a boarding school, but Irene had not yet felt ready for full disclosure. "Tonight it supposed to be fun and romantic. I don't want to ruin it."

"Okay. But you have to promise that you won't just keep putting this off in hopes that I'll forget." Teresa eyed her pointedly. "I have a memory like an elephant." She tapped her temple.

"I'll keep that in mind."

After dinner, Teresa served her a simple bowl of ice-cream with strawberries on top, and then they moved to the den, where Irene curled up on the couch next to Teresa. The lights were low, and Irene was hyper aware of Teresa's breasts against her back, and the fact that she was nestled between Teresa's legs. The actress had draped an arm loosely around Irene's waist, resting her head on her shoulder as they watched the movie. Irene did not really pay attention to the screen, instead concentrating on trying to appear relaxed and in control. That control wavered when Teresa's fingers began dancing along her ribs. They had made it halfway through the movie before those hands started to fully caress her sides. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head back onto Teresa's shoulder.

"That's nice," she murmured. The actress's hands travelled higher to graze the underside of Irene's breasts. She was slightly embarrassed when a moan escaped her lips, her back arching just slightly into Teresa's touch.

"Is this too much?" Teresa asked quietly. "Should I stop?"

"No. Don't stop." Irene knew that this was the moment where she had to make a decision. Either she let Teresa continue, let the situation escalate, or she stopped it. She found that, as scared as she was, she did not want to stop. Irene was an all or nothing type of woman. If she was ready to let Teresa touch her in that way, then she was ready to let Teresa take her all the way.

"Good. Because I might have cried if you made me stop."

"I would never want that," Irene managed. She wanted so much to please Teresa. Teresa's lips came to rest against her neck, brushing the skin, causing Irene's breath to hitch and shudder. "If you leave a hickey, I'll kill you," she murmured, very distracted.

"I'll be careful, I promise." Her lips travelled up, and Teresa kissed the corner of Irene's jaw, nipping ever so lightly at her pulse point. She brought her hands higher, fully cupping Irene's breasts now, pulling Irene's back tighter against her chest. Irene moaned again low and deep in her throat, her hips rolling subconsciously. Teresa let one of her hands drop to Irene's hip then down to caress her thigh before dipping briefly between her legs.

"Oh, God," Irene gasped, closing her eyes tightly. Heart rate skyrocketing, she turned her head to capture Teresa's lips, the kiss desperate and hungry. She fisted her hand in Teresa's dark hair, letting her lips fall open to allow Teresa's tongue access. She had never felt safer with a partner. Of course, she only had two others with whom to compare, but this was different. She wanted so badly to give herself to Teresa, in a way that she had never experienced before. Teresa pulled her up so that Irene was straddling her lap, arms encircling her waist, their bodies flush against each other as they continued to kiss. Irene let her hands rest on Teresa's shoulders, steadying herself as she got lost in Teresa's lips.

After several minutes, Teresa leaned back and carefully, reverently removed Irene's shirt. Irene was left in her simple cotton bra wishing that she had worn a different one, a sexier one. She looked down, unable to help herself as she compared her bust size to Teresa's. She was so much smaller, and she almost apologized for that before she realized that Teresa had paused, eyes devouring her. "You're so beautiful," she whispered. Irene blushed and looked away, trying to ignore how exposed she felt under Teresa's intense gaze. .

"No I'm not." How could Teresa think so when she herself was so incredibly stunning? Irene knew that she was not ugly by any means, and she was sure that her body, at least, was attractive. But she was always self-conscience about her slightly hooked nose and her angular features.

"Yes. You are." Teresa took Irene's face between her hands and kissed her soundly before nibbling on her bottom lip. "You're perfect." With surprising strength, she stood up, hitching Irene's legs around her waist, and carried her to the bedroom where she gently laid her down on the bed. Irene looked up at her, chest heaving in anticipation. Teresa held eye contact as she pulled of her own shirt and shimmied out of her jeans. Irene swallowed hard, staring at the vision of perfection before her. She knew without a doubt that she had never seen a more beautiful person in all her life than Teresa Blackwell. She sat up and removed her own pants, leaving her in just her underwear on Teresa's bed.

Carefully and slowly, Teresa pushed Irene back down, leaning in to kiss her, the black waves of her hair falling around them. One hand kept her braced above Irene while the other ran down between her breasts and across her stomach. Irene's breath caught, and her brain finally caught up with her body.

"Stop," she squeaked against Teresa's lips. "Please." Disappointed, but not surprised, Teresa pulled back, closing her eyes and sighing. Irene stood and walked over to the curtained window, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." She heard the bed creak as Teresa stood to come up behind her, not too close to invade her personal space. "I shouldn't have let myself get carried away."

"I...I want this, Teresa," Irene began, not quite sure how to explain her feelings, not quite sure what they even were. "But I just...I want you to know that I don't...I don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Sleep with people I barely know." She was sure of her decision, sure that she wanted this, but that did not make her any less terrified. She had never let herself become so infatuated with someone so early in a relationship. She had never felt more exposed and vulnerable, but she had also never been more willing to jump off the precipice. Teresa was worth the risk. She just had to make sure that they were both on the same page.

"And you think I do?" The hurt was clear in Teresa's voice. Irene grimaced and turned to face Teresa, heart fluttering at the sight of her almost naked body.

"That's not what I meant." How had she gone from feeling so excited and happy just moments before to being scared and insecure. "I just meant...this is faster than I expected...It normally takes much longer for me...for me to be...comfortable enough..." She took a deep breath to gather herself. "I've never let it happen this quickly, if at all. I just...I want you to know how big of a deal this is for me." Teresa's eyes softened and she stepped closer, returning her hands to Irene's hips.

"I know." She leaned their foreheads against each other. "And I understand. I'm...I understand how special this is." Irene tilted her head so that they could kiss again, wrapping her arms around Teresa's neck, pulling their bodies close so that their breasts were presses together. She thought she could feel Teresa's heartbeat.

"I want to do this with you," she said as she pulled back, away from Teresa's lips. "I just needed you to know." Teresa pushed Irene's hair back behind an ear, tilting her head to the side.

"I've never wanted someone as much as I want you right now." Teresa's words sent an intense wave of desire through Irene's body and she pulled Teresa back to her, capturing her lips again, her kisses desperate and needy. "Are you sure about this?" Teresa managed to gasp between kisses.

"I am." Teresa maneuvered them back to the bed, laying Irene down and stretching her body over Irene's, kissing down her neck and chest. For the first time in years, Irene let herself go, gave herself over to her desires and let Teresa make love to her. And tentatively, hesitant even though she was the one with more experience with women, she explored Teresa's body, delighting every time she found a spot that made the other woman moan lowly until she reached completion. They spent several hours in that bed, learning each other's bodies, and when they were done, both covered in a light sheen of sweat, Teresa pulled Irene close and let the slim woman rest her head against Teresa's chest.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me," Teresa whispered into her hair. Irene closed her eyes contentedly, breathing in Teresa's scent. "I know how big of a step that was."

"And thank you for being patient with me. It's been a long time." Irene had not been with a woman romantically in several years, and had been unsure at first if she would be able to properly take care of Teresa. She need not have worried, though because Teresa had responded rather well to her attentions. Reluctantly, she looked at the clock and sighed when she saw that it was nearly midnight. "I should go. It's late." But when she tried to move, Teresa tightened her arms.

"No. Stay here." Irene twisted around to look into Teresa's face, and saw that her eyes were pleading. "Stay the night. Please."

"I don't have any clothes." It was the only response that came to mind. Irene had not expected Teresa to ask her to stay. She was unprepared.

"Well, I was planning on sleeping naked, but if you want, I have plenty of t-shirts you can wear, and no one is going to notice if you wear the same clothes tomorrow," Teresa insisted. "Clare's at her father's until tomorrow evening, and I...I wanted to cook you breakfast." Irene knew in that moment, as Teresa tried to convince her to stay, bribing her with food, that she loved Teresa more than she had loved any of her previous girlfriends. She was beautiful and smart and funny and humble and talented. She was everything that Irene had wanted and many things she had not known she wanted until they were presented to her. "Please stay."

"Okay, fine. I'll stay. But only because you promised breakfast." Teresa smiled and pulled Irene back down next to her, positioning them so that she was spooning Irene, and arm thrown over her waist.

"Thank you."

"I expect breakfast to be phenomenal."

Teresa chuckled. "Good night, Irene."

"Night, Teresa." She settled into the sheets, snuggling against Teresa, and soon she was fast asleep.

When Irene awoke, it took her a moment to recognize her surroundings. She was not in her room, and the clock on the night stand was not her clock. Confused, she pushed herself up on her elbows, and realized that she was naked. Her eyes widened as the night before came crashing back to her. She glanced over to her left to see Teresa's equally naked form sleeping soundly next to her, black hair fanned across the pillow. Relaxing, Irene smiled. Teresa looked so lovely and peaceful in her sleep. Irene glanced over at the clock to see that it was only seven. Early enough that she should go back to sleep, but Irene had always been an early riser, and once she was up, she was up. So carefully, mindful that Teresa would not yet want to be up, she swung her legs out of the sheets and off the bed and stumbled into Teresa's bathroom to take care of business and look for a robe.

There was only one robe, and Irene decided that between the two of them, she would much rather have Teresa be the naked one. So she shrugged on the robe and ran a hand through her tangled hair. She scrounged around in the drawers for a hair tie. Even though she had only spent a day in Teresa's home, she felt comfortable enough to go through Teresa's things. After a few moments, she found a few ties and quickly pulled her hair back, wishing she could take a shower, but not wanting the noise to wake Teresa.

Irene realized that she had not brought any of her work with her, and she was not much of a fan of TV, so she made her way to Teresa's office and rounded up a few pencils and some computer paper. The view from the living room was very inspiring, so she curled up in one of the comfy chairs and began sketching, losing herself in the drawings.

"Can I see?" Irene's pencil skittered across the page as Teresa's voice startled her. She looked up to see the other woman leaning against the wall, hair tousled, with her head cocked to the side wearing only a t-shirt that barely covered her.

"Oh, um..." Irene looked down at her paper, at the numerous sketches she had laid down in the two hours that had passed. They were mostly of Teresa. "Well...I...it might seem weird..." Teresa raised a brow and sauntered over to Irene, coming to stand behind her and looking over her shoulder.

"It's me."

"Um...yeah." Irene resisted the urge to hide the drawings, letting Teresa take them from her hands to inspect them.

"These are fantastic, Irene," she said, holding them up to the morning light streaming through the window. "I didn't know you were so talented." Irene blushed.

"They're not that great," she muttered.

"Yes they are," Teresa insisted. "And I have to say I'm a little flattered." She held up one, one that was a particular favorite of Irene's, that was a profile of Teresa. Her eyes were half closed, looking down with a small smile tugging at her lips and her hair falling in front of her face. It did not look exactly like Teresa, but it embodied the way Teresa made her feel. "Is this how you see me? It looks so soft and …..soft."

"You were soft with me last night," Irene said quietly. "You were so gentle and...and patient." She looked up at Teresa's kind eyes.

"I just wanted you to feel safe," Teresa said. "I know how nervous you were."

"You were incredible." Irene blushed. "It was all incredible."

"You were pretty incredible yourself," Teresa smirked, glancing back at Irene before studying the sketch further. "And this is incredible, too. I...the emotion is so moving. It's...Do I really make you feel this way?" She sounded so surprised, so pleased. Irene nodded, gathering her courage.

"Yes, it is. You make me feel...well, I've never felt this way before." She looked up into Teresa's dark eyes. "I...this might be too soon for me to say," she began, heart thudding loudly in her chest. "But...I ...I love you." The words hung in the air for a short, terrifying moment.

"I know." Teresa's face was utterly serious.

"What?" Irene blinked in surprise.

"I know that you would not have done anything with me last night if you didn't love me," Teresa explained gently. "I know you." She placed the sketches down on the coffee table and knelt in front of Irene. "Yes, it hasn't been very long, and I know that you're scared by how fast we've gone. And I'm sorry...I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pushed."

"No, never," Irene assured her. "I made the decision on my own. You've never made me feel pressured." Teresa nodded, never losing eye contact.

"I want you to know that...even if..." She took a deep breath. "I do sometimes sleep with people I don't love." Feeling very vulnerable, Irene looked away from Teresa's eyes. "But it's so different with you." Teresa placed a hand on Irene's knee. "I...I'm not ready to say it back yet, and I'm so sorry for that." she bit her lip. "The last person I loved was Clare's father, and I haven't said it to anyone else since. This is just as new for me as it is for you. It's a little scary." She had not said the words, but she had heavily implied it, and that was almost enough for Irene.

"It's okay," she said, turning back to look at Teresa. "I don't want to push you either. I didn't say it so that I could hear it back. I just...wanted you to know."

"Irene, I'm never going to lead you on, okay?" Teresa stood back up so that she could lean over and kiss Irene gently on her forehead. "I never want to hurt you or make you feel like you're giving more to this than I am."

"I know. I trust you." She was slightly disappointed that Teresa had not said she loved her, but it was not unexpected. She knew Teresa was committed to this relationship, knew that Teresa cared deeply for her. Perhaps ten years earlier, Irene would have felt terribly insecure about all this, but she knew that she had already thrown herself all in. Now, she just had to wait and see where it went. She could not let her insecurities get the best of her.

"That means a great deal to me." Teresa pulled Irene up and into a tight embrace, and Irene could feel her breasts through the thin material of her shirt. "Do you still want me to cook you breakfast?" Teresa asked, lips close to Irene's pointed ear. "Or...we could do ...something else instead?" Irene shivered as Teresa's breath ghosted over her skin.

"W-what did you have in mind?" She hated that she was unable to keep her voice steady. Teresa's teeth nipped her earlobe, and one hand pressed into the small of her back as the other slid down to rest on her rear, pulling her closer. Irene bit her lip as she moaned, eyes closing, remembering that she was completely naked under Teresa's robe. Her hands clenched, bunching up the fabric of Teresa's shirt.

"Maybe we could move back to the bedroom?" Teresa took a step backwards, pulling Irene along with her. She moved her lips down to Irene's neck, nipping lightly.

"Teresa-"

"No hickies," she said against Irene's skin. "I remember." It was just practical. Irene did not have that many shirts that covered her neck and she did not like wearing scarves inside. She did not need anyone besides Melissa knowing that she was involved with someone. She especially did not want word getting back to her father. He...would not be pleased.

"We don't need that kind of attention right now." Irene was proud of how coherent and intelligent that sentence sounded. It was quite impressive considering that Teresa's lips were now moving lower, over her collarbone and across her sternum.

"Hmm, I suppose you're right." Teresa nipped at the skin between Irene's breasts. "But no one will see them here." Irene arched her back, pressing herself into Teresa's lips, hands taking hold of her hair.

"God, Teresa."

"I have a rule against having sex in the same room where Clare watches TV, so let's move this to the bedroom now." Teresa spun them around and pushed Irene down the hall and back into the bedroom.

Eventually, they did get around to making breakfast, with Teresa attempting to teach Irene how to make pancakes while she scrambled eggs and fried some bacon. The pancakes ended up being edible, if not pretty, and Irene felt oddly proud that she had been able to pull it off. Then it really had been time for Irene to go home. She had work she needed to get done before Monday, and Teresa had several interviews to prepare for in the coming week. So she went home after making plans with Teresa to meet at least twice for lunch during the week, and for dinner that Thursday when Clare was supposed to be staying with a friend. They were still working around the girl's schedule. Teresa was not ready for Irene to meet her yet, and Irene respected her wishes. There was no need to rush things. It would happen when it was supposed to.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Last chapter for a little while guys. I have major writer's block for both my stories. So savor this.

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><p>Her phone rang as she was grabbing a powerbar for breakfast. Teresa.<p>

"Hey, can I call you ba-"

"_I'm so sorry, Irene,"_ Teresa interrupted. Irene frowned, standing up straight. Whatever was about to happen, she knew it was not going to be good.

"Teresa, what do you mean?" she asked slowly, stomach clenching painfully, mind jumping to conclusions she hoped were not true. "Sorry about what?"

"_You haven't gone outside yet, have you?"_

"No I'm running a little late today. I was just about to leave." She made her way to the kitchen window to look outside. There were at least fifteen people with cameras standing outside her door. "Shit."

"_I'm sorry,"_ Teresa repeated, voice pained. _"I'm so sorry. They caught a picture of us kissing outside that coffee shop Tuesday and now...it's all over the tabloids and page six. I'm so sorry."_ Irene closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to keep her breathing calm. So it had finally happened. They had slipped up. It had been inevitable, and at least now she no longer had to worry about it. Now she just had to survive.

"Stop apologizing, Teresa," she told the other woman. Teresa sounded fearful and nervous, so unlike her normal self. "We knew this was going to happen eventually."

"_I know, but I thought...I thought we would be more prepared."_ She sighed heavily, the noise crackling over the speaker. _"It's barely been two months. That's not very long."_

"It's alright. We can handle this," Irene assured her. "I'm not going to bolt. I promise." She steeled herself and headed for the door, down to the hostile photographers on the street. "I'm about to walk outside, so..."

"_Okay. Call me later. I...You still need to meet Clare._" They had been planning on having a nice private dinner later that week so that Irene and Clare could officially meet. She was already incredibly nervous, knowing how important it was that Clare like her, and this added pressure would not help. If Clare ever thought that it was Irene's fault that she was harassed and heckled...

"I have no desire to cancel our dinner," Irene said firmly. She paused at the door. "It's going to be okay, Teresa."

"_I know. I'll talk to you later."_

"Okay. Bye." She slipped her phone into her purse and hitched the bag higher on her shoulder as she pushed open the door. Immediately, she was bombarded with questions and people shouting her name and cameras being shoved in her face. She held up her hand to shield her face as she pushed through the small crowd.

"Irene!"

"Irene! Have you always been a lesbian?"

"Is Teresa good in bed?"

"How did you meet?"

"How long have you been dating Teresa?"

"Do you and Clare get along?" Irene turned around and faced the photographer who had asked that.

"You leave her daughter out of this," she growled fiercely. "She's just a kid." Before any of them could reply, she wheeled around and marched to the cab she had waiting for her.

"You okay miss?" the driver asked in a thick accent she could not quite identify as she slid into the back seat. "They not very nice."

"No. They're not." She leaned back and sighed. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She told him where to go and rubbed her brow, wondering how long it would take for things to calm down. There was another mob, bigger this time, waiting for her outside her work. Resolutely, she pushed her way through them and into the building. The security guard asked her if she was alright, and she brushed off his concern, frustrated that she had been made even later that she had thought.

Just when she thought her day could not get worse, Melissa walked out to meet her before she could get very far into the office, her face pale and drawn.

"Your father's here." Irene nearly dropped her briefcase.

"What?" she hissed, pulling Melissa aside. "Here? Why?" Instead of answering, Melissa held up a copy of _Us Weekly_ with her and Teresa locking lips on the cover. Their identities were very clear. "Goddammit."

"He's not happy."

"I would imagine not." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Where is he?"

"Waiting in your office."

"This day is shit already, and it's only eight."

"Should I cancel your meetings?"

"No." She sighed. "No reason for that. I'll just have to handle this." She grimaced before steeling herself to walk into her office to face her father. William Winters was a real-estate mogul of epic proportions, earning obscene amounts of money each year. He had high aspirations for his only daughter, and had always pushed her harder than Irene thought necessary, especially after disowning her brother. When she pushed open the door to her office, he turned from his place by the window, scowling deeply, his green eyes flashing dangerously.

"Hello, Father," she said stiffly, shutting the door carefully behind her in anticipation. "It's been a while since you visited me here." He had clutched in his hands the same magazine that Melissa had shown her. He held it up, raising a brow.

"What the hell is this?"

"I believe it's the latest issue of _Us Weekly_," she said coolly. "I didn't take you for a reader of tabloids."

"I'm not in the mood for your attitude, Irene." She gritted her teeth against a growl. How dare he treat her like she was still a child? She was an adult, had been for over fifteen years, and he still talked to her like she was a teenager. She put down her purse and briefcase, stepping behind her desk to put herself in a position of power, something she had learned from him

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see why it is that you're trying to ruin your reputation." Irene sat heavily in her chair, folding her hands on her desk.

"And how exactly am I doing that?" she asked with a raised brow.

"By gallivanting around with this...this...woman!" His voiced was raised now, but she did not flinch, did not think about the fact that all of her employees would be able to hear him, undercutting her authority.

"I hardly see how it's any of your business," she said, voice low. She would not rise to his bait. "It's not like she's the first woman I've ever dated." She had come out to her parents after her suicide attempt as part of her therapy. They had not handled it as well as she would have liked, but they had not disowned her, and her mother, at least, had eventually come around to it. When she died, however, her father had gone to pretending that part of her life did not exist. Irene was, in all other aspects, the perfect daughter. She had graduated with honors, she did not drink too much or do drugs or get her name in the tabloids like other heiresses. Her romantic endeavors had been so few and far between that her father had not felt the need to comment on them. Now, however, it was out for the entire world to see. And with an actress, too.

"The others were reputable, at the very least," he snapped. Yes, they had been daughters of other important people, well respected, Ivy League educated. Teresa was nothing like them, and that was why Irene loved her. "This one-" he gestured wildly with the magazine "-is only using you."

"How dare you!" she hissed, anger building. "You don't know her at all. She is genuine and kind and she would never do anything to hurt me."

"Stop being so naive, girl." He leaned threateningly over her desk. "I didn't think you would be stupid enough to fall for that." Irene's nostrils flared as she continued to struggle against her temper. It took quite a lot to get her riled up, but once she was, it took even longer for her to calm back down.

"I am thirty-five years old, Father, and you cannot tell me what to do anymore."

"You're being stupid, Irene."

"Get out." She stood, her impressive height plus her heels putting her at eye level with her father.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'get out.'" She had had enough. Enough of his judgment, enough of his disapproval.

"How dare you-"

"No, how dare _you_," she snapped, interrupting him. "How dare you come into the place where I work, undermine my authority with my employees and berate me about my personal life when you can't even gather up the courage to call your own son to see if he's doing alright. Did you even know that Sharon is pregnant?" His jaw dropped, answering her question. "Yes. That's right. She's due any day now, but you didn't know that because you pushed him away because of who he loves. They're naming the baby after mom."

"He didn't tell me."

"And why would he?" Irene asked, on a roll now. "You don't deserve to know the child. You don't deserve to know Teresa, either. I will date whomever I want to, with or without your approval. You can disown me if you like, but I love Teresa, and I will choose her over you any day." He was now shaking with silent anger, mouth opening and closing much like a fish out of water. "She has been kinder to me in the two months that we've known each other than you have my entire life. So get out of my office before I call security. You have no authority here." Her father seemed to snap to his senses.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I believe I am." Her hand hovered over the call button, ready to summon security if she needed to. "Do not push me. Walk out of here with some dignity left, or I will make you regret it."

"We're not finished here, Irene," he hissed. "We'll discuss this later." Her threw open the door to her office and stormed out, the eyes of her employees following him the entire way. Irene watched him go, breathing hard, but feeling exhilarated. She had never stood up to him in such a way, and it felt good to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Melissa entered the office carefully and asked her if she was okay.

"I'm fine." Irene shut the door behind Melissa and then slumped in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Do you still have the statement we prepared?"

"Of course."

"Release it." She leaned her head back and let out a sigh. "I will only be accepting calls from the board today. Everyone else is to get the generic answer." Melissa nodded, jotting a few notes down on her pad of paper. "Tell any reporters 'no comment' until I get a chance to really talk with Teresa. I'll let you know when that is."

"Is that all?"

"For now. Today is going to be awful," she warned. "I appreciate your professionalism, Melissa. I just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you, Ms. Winters." She gave a nod before leaving the office, shutting the door behind her. Irene groaned and rested her head in her hands. This had not been the way she had wanted her father to find out, but she supposed she only had herself to blame. There had been plenty of time for her to warn him. Still, it was time for him to stop being so damn high and mighty. Her cell phone buzzed, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked down at the screen. It was her brother.

"Hello, Paul," she said tiredly.

"_I saw the news, Ren. How're you holding up?"_

"Father came to see me this morning," she replied, knowing that would sufficiently answer his question.

"_Damn. I'm sorry."_

"It's alright." She grimaced slightly. "I told him about the baby. I'm sorry, Paul. It just slipped out."

"_He would have found out eventually anyway." _Paul was so much more laid-back than she was. _"And I'm kind of glad I wasn't the one who told him. Thanks for taking that bullet for me."_

"You owe me, then."

"_Hey, Ren, Sharon and I were talking and...If she's well enough, you know with the baby and all, we'd like you and Teresa to spend Thanksgiving with us."_ The baby was due mid-November, just a week from then, and they would not be able to go to Chicago like they normally did. It touched Irene that Paul would be willing to open his home to them. She supposed she should not have been surprised. They really had been talking more lately, growing closer as siblings. _"I know you're not big on the whole family thing, but...we'd love to have you. Both of you."_

"You just want to meet Teresa Blackwell," Irene said, trying to cover up the lump in her throat.

"_Well, that's part of it," _Paul admitted. _"But I also want you to know that we're here for you."_

"I appreciate that, Paul. I'll have to talk with her about it. She usually spends it in Texas with her family."

"_Well, you can still come on your own and see your new niece."_

Irene smiled, glad to have at least something good happen to her that day. "I would love to. Thank you. How's Sharon holding up?"

"_She keeps telling me that she looks like a whale, and then gets mad at me when I say she's beautiful,"_ he lamented.

"I've heard that can happen with pregnant women," Irene said awkwardly.

"_That's what they tell me," _Paul sighed. _"I'll be glad when she pops the kid out. Of course, then we'll be getting little to no sleep. A perfect win-win situation."_ Irene smirked at the humor in his voice.

"Better you than me," she taunted.

"_Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we're here if you need anything, Ren. Just remember that."_

"I will. Thank you, Paul."

"_Of course. I gotta run. Love you."_

"You too. Bye."

"_Bye."_ Irene sat back in her chair and sighed. Well at least one person had her back. Besides Teresa, of course. Thanksgiving with Paul and Sharon sounded very appealing. She doubted she would be able to get Teresa to go, but even alone, it would be preferable to her normal Thanksgiving routine of a frozen dinner and an evening spent going over briefs.

Right before lunch, her phone rang again. This time it was Teresa.

"Hey." Irene felt no need to hide the fatigue in her voice.

"_You're coming straight over to my place after work tonight. No arguments."_ Teresa often started conversations in a similar fashion. She just dove right in without so much as a 'hello.'

"Is that wise?" Irene asked. "What about Clare?" This was not the right way to meet the girl.

"_I sent her to her father's. I didn't want her to be so exposed to the media."_ Her father. Irene cursed silently. Teresa had not told Chris about them before this.

"How...how is Chris taking all this?" she asked cautiously.

"_Better than I expected,"_ Teresa replied. _"He was a little miffed that I didn't tell him myself, but he understood the reasons. He's going to take Clare to his parent's house for the weekend. Get her out of the city and away from everything." _

"So why do I need to come over tonight? Won't that just be taunting them?" Irene wanted to spend the night with Teresa. She certainly did not want to be alone.

"_I really don't care. I mean, it's out there, so why hide anymore?" _Teresa's logic was undeniable. Part of why they had not spent more time together was to keep their relationship more secret. _"I want to start waking up with you next to me more often."_

"That does sound very appealing," Irene admitted. "Okay then. I'll come over. Are you cooking me anything?"

"_Is food all you care about?"_

"A girl's got to eat," Irene reminded her lightly. She was glad that even in all this, she and Teresa could joke around.

"_Yes, there will be food."_

"Oh, good."

"_Okay, well I know you're busy, so I'll let you go now. I'll be at home all day, so when you're heading over, give me a call so I can prepare."_

"Alright. I'll call you. Bye."

"_Bye."_

Irene had decided that it would probably be better to ask Teresa about Thanksgiving that night in person instead of over the phone.

Early in the afternoon, after speaking with two of the trustees for her foundation, Melissa called into Irene's office that the CEO of the firm was there to see her. Irene took a deep breath before asking her to send him in.

Jack Callaghan strode confidently into her office, and Irene rose to meet him, sticking out her hand for him to take.

"Jack. It's good to see you."

"Likewise Irene."

"Won't you have a seat?" She indicated the two chairs in front of her desk.

"Of course, thank you." Jack sat and regarded her for a moment. "How are you holding up?"

"Well, thank you," she answered smoothly. Her sexuality had never been a secret from the company, so she did not fear a backlash from them. She was not entirely sure why Jack had seen fit to come look in on her himself. "I assume you are here because of the recent exposure of my relationship with Teresa Blackwell."

"You assume correctly." Jack settled back in the chair, steepling his fingers. "The board of directors came to me today. They fear that this might affect sales next quarter." Irene set her jaw against the anger rising up.

"How incredibly ignorant of them," she said tensely. "Revenue has increased 5% since I have been in this position," she reminded Jack. He nodded.

"I know that, Irene, and you need not fear for your position." Jack said gently. "I explained that to them. Once this blows over, they'll calm down."

"I'm sorry for all this, Jack."

"No need," he said dismissively. "I just wanted to come by and check on you and let you know that you have my support."

"I appreciate that." They talked a bit more about upcoming projects for the company before Jack stood to leave. Irene stood, too, and walked him to the door. After he left, Irene decided to take a walk around the office, checking in on her employees, making sure they were all able to handle the situation. She knew that it affected them as well as herself. Perhaps not to the same extent, but enough that it could interfere with their productivity. Irene was pleased to find that most of them had supportive words for her and appreciated that she was taking the time to speak with them.

She called Teresa around 5:30 to say that she was about to leave and gathered herself to face the herd of photographers that were waiting for her outside the doors of the lobby. As soon as she stepped outside, she was bombarded with questions and flashes in her face, but she moved resolutely forward. Before she had left, Irene had called herself a cab so that she could just slip into it and not have to wait. The security guard was kind enough to ferry her through, pushing back the photogs and helping Irene into the cab. She thanked him before shutting the door and giving the driver Teresa's address.

As she sat back against the seat, Irene was very glad that Teresa had insisted she come over. It had been a long, hard, exhausting day, and she really wanted nothing more than to just relax on the couch next to Teresa and pretend like it was just a normal day. That illusion was almost shattered when the cab pulled up to Teresa's building and an army of photographers surrounded her. Resolutely, she opened the cab door and pushed her way through, ignoring the questions and hiding her face until the doorman rescued her.

"Are you okay?" he asked as they stepped inside, shutting out the paparazzi.

"Yes, thank you."

"They're not going to leave now," he said thoughtfully.

"I know. They'll be waiting for me." She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and entered the elevator.

Teresa greeted her with a tired smile and a tight hug. Irene practically melted into her arms, molding her body to Teresa's.

"Hey," she said into Teresa's neck, letting her eyes flutter shut, feeling safe for the first time that day.

"Hey." Teresa pressed her face into Irene's hair. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Tiring." Irene sighed and pulled back, letting Teresa lead her over to the couch. "The CEO came by to see me."

"Oh. Is everything okay?" Teresa's voice was spiked with worry. "This...this isn't going to hurt you at work, is it?"

"No. He said the board was a little concerned but that he was able to defend me to them." She kicked off her shoes and untucked her shirt as she curled her legs under her on the couch. "And, oh God, my father came by." She felt Teresa stiffen next to her.

"Did he freak out?"

"I'm still in the will as far as I know, but it was not pretty." She leaned back against Teresa who wrapped her arms loosely around Irene's waist. "He said I was being naive. That you were using me."

"He obviously doesn't know you well," Teresa commented. "You're the one calling all the shots here." Irene smiled wryly.

"No, he doesn't know me at all." She shivered slightly as Teresa's hands ran through her hair. "I suppose I should have told him myself instead of letting him find out this way."

"Would his reaction have been any different?"

"I think he felt humiliated that he had to find out in such a way," Irene mused. "He would still have been angry, but not to the same extent."

"Well, I'm making lasagna for you," Teresa said. "Does that make it better?"

"It certainly helps." Irene smiled and leaned her head on Teresa shoulder. She was about to stand and get herself a glass of wine when the phone rang. "Shouldn't you get that?" Irene said when Teresa made no motion to get up.

"The machine will get it," she said. The phone continued to ring a few more times before Irene heard Teresa's answering machine pick up.

"_Teresa, honey, it's your mother."_ Teresa cursed and struggled to remove herself from Irene. _"I know you're there. It would be nice if you could pick up the phone for your mother."_ Teresa scrambled over to the phone, picking it up and putting it to her ear.

"Mama? Hey." She gave a little eye-roll for Irene. "Yes, Mama, I saw. Mhm...I know...She's alright, Mama. She's with Chris. He took her to his parents' house...Of course he was angry, Mom." Another eye-roll. Irene also noticed that Teresa's normal accent, which had just an ever-so slight hint at southerness, was becoming more and more pronounced as she talked with her mother. "Yeah, he just found out that his ex-wife is a lesbian now. Men tend to not take that well."

"You told me he took it fine," Irene protested, but Teresa waved her quiet, pacing around the room.

"I know, I know." Teresa nodded a few times despite the fact that her mother could not see her. "It's not like I asked for this...Yeah." She glanced back at Irene. "I think she's doing okay, too." Irene realized that they were talking about her now and she blushed, touched that Teresa's mother cared enough to ask about her. "No, it's a relief kind of to not have to hide it anymore... Yeah ... Hopefully some starlet will get caught with cocaine or something, and they'll forget about us." The timer on the oven beeped. "Hey, Mama, can I call you later? Like, tomorrow?...Because I have to get dinner out of the oven..." Whatever her mother said in reply made Teresa blush. "Yes, she's here." Teresa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at Irene. "She says 'hello.'"

"Tell, her I say 'hello' back," Irene replied awkwardly.

"She says 'hello'...God, Mom. I'm not telling her that." Teresa's blush deepened, and Irene felt a smile spreading across her face. "Mom, no... Because that's embarrassing!...Fine." She sighed, frustrated and faced Irene. "She says that the jacket you were wearing in the picture has a loose button and that you should probably get that fixed." Irene raised a brow.

"Well, tell her I appreciate that. I really love that jacket, and I would be very sad if I lost that button." She grinned at Teresa's scowl.

"Well, aren't you two just BFFs now." She sighed. "She says 'thanks.' No, you can't talk to her...No, Mom!...Because I actually want her to stick around and you'll just scare her off...I have to go, Mama...I have to get the food out of the oven...No, I'm not just saying that to get you off the phone...You'll just have to trust me...Bye, Mama...Love you, too." She hung up and let out a frustrated growl. "That woman will talk your ear off." Teresa put the phone back on the cradle and walked into the kitchen to pull out the lasagna.

"Why didn't you let her talk to me?" Irene asked.

"Believe me, I was sparing you," Teresa called from the kitchen. Irene got up to join her, pulling out dishes and silverware as Teresa put the lasagna on the table. "She would have never let you go. I think she likes you."

"She's never met me."

"That doesn't matter to her. She thinks that she's best friends with Martha Stewart because they met once at a charity event I did," Teresa explained as they sat and she dipped out the lasagna. "She talks about her like they hang out every day. Her and Judge Judy. God." Teresa shook her head and smiled.

"Well, I'm just glad she's handled this all so well."

"That's true," Teresa agreed. "It could have been a lot worse."

"Oh, um...I meant to ask you," Irene began, getting Teresa's attention. "Paul called me today...and...well, you don't have to say yes or anything...but um...they're having Thanksgiving at home this year because of the baby and all...and he...um invited us to spend it with him. Both of us."

"That's very kind of him."

"I told him you probably couldn't come, you know, because you'll be in Texas, but...yeah." Irene did not know why she felt so nervous about Teresa's answer, but she fidgeted with her napkin while she waited for the answer.

"I want to, Irene, but my mother would be devastated if I skipped out this year," Teresa said gently. Irene nodded and looked down at her plate, disappointed, but not surprised.

"I understand." She gave Teresa a small, only slightly strained smile. "I figured as much."

"Hey, Irene, I really do wish I could," Teresa said sincerely. "I want to meet your family. Or at least the part that approves of me. Please let Paul know how much I appreciate the invitation."

"I will." Her smile became more natural as Teresa reached across the table to take her hand.

They settled back to the couch after dinner for a movie, Irene's body slowly letting out the tension of the day as Teresa stroked her side gently. She had changed into the spare set of pajamas that she kept in Teresa's room, and she and Teresa were curled up under a blanket with the lights dimmed. Irene felt no need to do anything but just sit together, enjoying each other's company. Sex with Teresa was wonderful, but her favorite thing to do with Teresa was to just be together.

"Hey, Irene?" Teresa asked quietly as the credits started rolling.

"Hmm?"

"I want to tell you something."

"What is it?" Irene twisted her head around to look at Teresa. The other woman was biting her lip, a little apprehensive.

"I love you."

Irene blinked twice before smiling and leaning up to kiss Teresa. "I know," she said after pulling back, using the same words that Teresa had when Irene had said that to her a month before.

"Oh, do you?" Teresa raised a brow.

"Mhm. I've just been waiting for you to say it." She shifted so that she could face Teresa without twisting so much. "You do so much that makes it so obvious, but I know the words are hard for you to say."

"I should have said them before all this crap happened," Teresa said apologetically. "You've been so patient with me. I know how hard it must have been to have said it to me without hearing it back."

"You made up for it," Irene told her. "And now we're even." She kissed Teresa again, letting her hands rest on Teresa's neck as the other woman's arms came around her waist. "I love you, Teresa," she whispered against her girlfriend's lips.

"I love you, too, Irene." She felt Teresa's lips pull into a smile against her own, and was content to spend the rest of her night in Teresa's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** I know I've left this story alone for a while, but I felt I could only work on one big one at a time. So now that ATYF is over, I have some time to dedicate to this one. Hope you guys are still interested!

* * *

><p>Irene smoothed her skirt nervously, wondering if it had been the right choice. Then she chastised herself. Clare would not care if the skirt was deep navy or black. She was eleven for goodness sake. Irene took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It took eight seconds for Teresa to answer with a wide, beaming smile.<p>

"Hey." She leaned in to give Irene a short, chaste kiss before stepping back so that Irene could walk into the hallway. "You look nervous." Irene narrowed her eyes.

"I am nervous, you ass."

Teresa grinned. "She doesn't bite. At least, not anymore. We trained her out of that when she was seven." Teresa steered Irene into the living room where Clare was sitting on the couch. She was a bit short for her age, with chestnut hair and bright green eyes. Irene figured that she must take after her father because she looked very little like Teresa. "Clare, this is Irene." The girl stood cautiously and held out her hand for Irene to take. Clare's grip was stronger than she had expected.

"It's nice to meet you, Clare," she said with a small smile, trying to appear inviting.

"Yeah, you too." The child seemed nervous and apprehensive. Irene felt her own awkwardness grow, and she glanced back at Teresa.

"Okay, well dinner is just about ready, so let's move this to the dining room, shall we?" Teresa asked, clapping her hands together. She ushered Clare and Irene to the table, making them sit while she left to get the food. Irene and Clare both stared after her, horrified that she had left them alone together. Pushing down her panic, Irene decided to be the adult.

"So, um, Clare," Irene began, bringing the girl's eyes back to her. "What grade are you in?" It was a stupid, impersonal question that she probably got all the time, but it was the best Irene could think of at the moment.

"Sixth." Clare did not elaborate.

"Oh, so is that middle school yet?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have a favorite subject?" Irene really wished that Teresa would come back and rescue her.

"Art. And I like German, too."

"Oh, really?" Thank God. Those were two subject to which Irene could relate. "I took a lot of art classes in school." This seemed to pique Clare's attention.

"Do you draw?"

"When I have time," Irene said, feeling more relaxed. "It's hard to find the time now because of work."

"That's sad."

Irene mulled over that. "I suppose it is."

"What do you draw?"

"Mostly people." She left out the fact that for the last couple of months, it had been mostly her mother. That probably would have been weird for both of them.

"I like to draw horses," Clare said. "I'm not as good at people." Irene smiled. It had been the same for her at that age. She had drawn mostly animals, and horses had been her specialty.

"I can give you some pointers, if you want," she offered. Clare returned her smile.

"Really? Thanks."

Teresa picked that moment to return, placing a salad bowl on the table. "Just got to get the chicken out of the oven," she informed them before dashing back into the kitchen. Irene watched her go, admiring her fluid grace.

"Mom said you worked in business," Clare said, pulling Irene back.

"I do. I help run a rather large firm."

Clare nodded, but Irene could tell she really did not know what that meant. "Do you make a lot of money?"

"Yes."

"More than Mom?"

"Quite a deal more, yes."

Clare considered this for a moment, and in the lull in conversation, they heard Teresa curse in the kitchen. "That happens all the time," Clare informed Irene. "She gets ahead of herself. I'm not supposed to repeat any of those words, either." Teresa came back, carrying a platter of chicken, placing one on each of their plates.

"There we go," she said, sitting down. "Alright, dig in." Irene smiled at her and speared some lettuce on her fork. "So, you two getting along?" Teresa looked very nervous for the answer. Irene glanced at Clare, who nodded as she chewed.

"Mhm. Irene likes to draw, too."

"I know," Teresa said, relaxing visibly. "She's very good."

"She's going to help me, right?" Clare turned her questioning eyes on Irene.

"Of course," the slim woman agreed.

"Good," Teresa beamed. "I'm glad that you guys have something in common." She looked as though she was going to say something further, but the phone rang. "I'll be right back." Clare and Irene watched her with curiosity.

"Who do you think that is?" Irene asked.

"I dunno. Probably Lindsey." Teresa's publicist.

As Teresa returned, they both realized Clare was wrong. "...and I know that's not what...Mom, please, just let me..." Teresa sighed with frustration, pacing in and out of the dining room, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor. "I really can't talk right now, Mom. …..Because I have company...Yes...No, you can't talk to her...When I'm sure you're not going to embarrass me, so never...Yes...Yes...God, Mom, of course we're still coming for Thanksgiving...No, she's having it with her brother. His wife's due any day now...Fine, I will...Uh huh...Yeah...okay, I love you, too. Bye, Mama." She hung up and left the phone on a coffee table in the living room. "Grandma says hi, Clare. And she says hi to you, too, Irene."

"Oh, well, you should have let me talk to her." Teresa was still keeping her family out of the picture as much as possible. Irene was unsure what that meant, but she chose to give Teresa the benefit of the doubt.

"I'd rather your first conversation be in person, not over the phone," Teresa said. "She's more...well, she's really not any less irritating that way, but she's easier to handle."

"So I have to wait until Christmas to talk to her?"

"It's better that way, trust me."

"Irene's coming to Christmas?" Clare looked between them, and Irene could not decipher her expression.

"Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you that earlier," Teresa said sheepishly. "Grandma invited her, but then all this stuff with the press...it kind of slipped my mind."

"I...If it makes you uncomfortable," Irene said to the girl, "I don't have to go. I can spend it with my brother. I don't want to intrude." Clare regarded her carefully while Teresa watched with anticipation.

"No, it's fine," the girl said finally. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"You'll know Irene better by then, I promise," Teresa said. "I want you two to bond." Clare gave her mother an odd look, one that Irene did not understand.

"Okay."

"Anyway," Teresa continued, "I kind of want her to be so curious about you that she has no choice but to love you. I mean, she already likes you, but I want to make sure she doesn't get a chance to make you uncomfortable until I'm there to protect you."

"I don't need your protection," Irene said lightly, with a small smile. Clare snorted.

"You kind of do." She shared a knowing look with Teresa. "Grandma can get kind of...intense. And she never really liked Dad. She never said it, but even I could tell."

"Clare," Teresa warned, sounding very much like a mother. She raised an eyebrow and then turned to Irene. "Don't worry about that. Mom's not going to treat you like she does Chris."

"I really do want her to like me," Irene said softly. "None of my other girlfriend's parents liked me."

"Why not?" Clare asked. Teresa sent her a glare, but she was too focused on Irene to see.

"They all thought I was weird because I was too quiet," Irene said. She kept her eyes on Clare. She had never told this to Teresa and did not really want to see whatever expression was on the other woman's face. "I was shy around them." She shrugged. "But I suppose it all turned out fine because now I'm here." She looked at the other two and then back at her plate. "Sorry. Now I've gone and made it awkward for you two." Teresa reached across the table and took her hand.

"Not at all, love."

"Speak for yourself," Clare muttered. "All this mushy stuff is freaking me out."

"Oh hush," Teresa told her playfully. "You like it just fine on those TV shows."

"Yeah. Not when it's my mom," Clare countered. Irene thought she was going to like this girl. She had Teresa's wit, and spoke much more maturely than the average eleven year old. "That's fiction. In real life, it's just gross."

"Sorry to have offended you." Teresa did not look sorry at all. In fact, she stuck out her tongue in the most childish manner.

"Oh, grow up, Mom," Clare said, rolling her eyes.

"Is it always like this with you two?" Irene asked.

"Yes," they answered simultaneously, and then they flashed matching grins.

"Now I see the family resemblance," Irene said. Both Clare and Teresa laughed.

"We actually get that a lot," Teresa said. "Clare doesn't look much like me, but she has my mind."

"Which I keep asking her to apologize for," Clare snipped. She smirked at Teresa, who rolled her eyes in return. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but the phone rang again. Teresa sighed, and rose to answer.

"Hello?...Oh... yes, she is. Hold-Oh my... Yes, of course...I see..." She put her hand over the receiver. "It's for you, Irene. It's your brother. Sharon's gone into labor."

"Oh!" Irene jumped up from the table and grabbed the phone from Teresa. "Paul?"

"_Hey, Ren. I'm at the hospital now,"_ her brother said, sounding excited and frightened at the same time. _"Sharon's doing fine. She's at... five centimeters, I think."_

"Is that close?"

"_I have no idea,"_ Paul admitted.

"Didn't you go to those birthing classes?"

"_Well, yeah, but...I kind of zoned out."_

Irene sighed. "Well, done, Paul. Should I head over there?"

"_I think we have a couple of hours, but come when you want."_

"Do you want me to come?" Irene asked knowingly. "To keep you company and all that?"

"_I mean, if you're not too busy."_

"I'll be there in a half hour, okay?"

"_You're awesome, Ren,"_ Paul told her.

"I know. Alright, I've got to go. Love you."

"_You, too."_

Irene hung up and turned back to Clare and Teresa. "Sharon's having the baby." Teresa smiled widely.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go on!" She said, shooing Irene away. "Go be with your family." Irene leaned in and kissed Teresa right there in front of Clare, who made a few retching sounds.

"It was lovely to meet you, Clare. I hope next time we actually get more time. Teresa, I'll call you later," she promised before heading out the door. Once on the street, she hailed a cab, went back to her place, changed clothes, hopped back in the cab, and then headed to the hospital. She quickly found Sharon's room, and had to dodge a few nurses who recognized her. Irene doubted she would ever become accustomed to being recognized like that. It had already happened to her a few times in the days since the _Us Weekly_ article. Teresa was such a big celebrity that it seemed the entire world knew of her new lesbian lover. The thin woman with silver hair and elf ears. Irene almost regretted that she had such a distinct look. It just made her that much easier to spot.

Luckily, the nurses seemed to have some level of professionalism and pointed her in the right direction when she turned the conversation around. Sharon's room was very close to a nurse's station, and Paul was pacing outside when Irene got there. Before she could even open her mouth, he launched into an explanation.

"The baby's in distress," he said, the anxiety and fear clear on his face and in his voice. "They're prepping her for a C-section right now. I couldn't...I needed some air." Irene did not hesitate to pull her brother into a hug.

"It's going to be okay, Paul," she said. "They do this all the time. Everything's going to be fine. Sharon's healthy, the baby's healthy, and there's nothing to worry about." He nodded against her shoulder.

"I know. I know. I think I just needed to hear someone else say it." He sighed and pulled back. "I'm just really freaking out." A nurse stepped out of the room, interrupting them.

"Mr. Winters, we're going to take her in now. You should come with me so we can put you in some scrubs."

"I'm going in?"

"Of course." The nurse smiled and Paul followed her, looking over his shoulder at Irene. Another nurse came up to her.

"Ms. Winters, you can wait in the waiting room. It's much more comfortable."

Irene nodded and followed her, finding a chair in the corner next to a stack of magazines. She began shuffling through them and stopped when she came face to face with a picture of herself in a casual kiss with Teresa Blackwell. She stared for a moment, eyes passing over the blurbs that surrounded the picture. All of them asked who the mystery woman with Teresa Blackwell was. The magazine promised an answer on the inside. Irene glanced around the waiting room, which was relatively empty. None of the occupants seemed to pay her any heed, so she brought the magazine to her lap and flipped to the instructed page. She had not actually read the article that had outed them, and she was slightly curious, in a perverse way, of what it said.

The article was by another picture of her and Teresa, much closer together this time. She grimaced, knowing that they should have been so much more careful. Bracing herself, she began to read.

_Teresa Blackwell has always been known for her superb acting skills, impeccable fashion sense, and stunning good looks. But since last Tuesday, all anyone can talk about is how she was caught outside the hoppin' New York cafe, Zen Palate, locking lips with a woman. Our best investigators have been on the case. _

_The woman in question is thirty-five year old Irene Winters, daughter of William Winters, the real estate tycoon. Irene is currently running the Eastern branch of the goliath business firm, Pennington Global. Sources tell _Us_ that she's been an out and proud lesbian since her teenage years. Her list of past relationships is short, but notable. She's been linked to the super model Galatea Rook and high powered lawyer Elda Burbanks. _

_Sources suggest that Winters met Blackwell at the semi-annual Gala for the Winters' Ovarian Cancer Foundation. Winters started the foundation after her mother died from ovarian cancer. It is one of the largest foundations of its kind. Blackwell's older sister also suffered from ovarian cancer before passing away in 1988 at the age of twenty-two. Blackwell has since used her fame to bring attention to the hard-to-catch disease. _

_No one knows how long the two have been canoodling, but the relationship seems to be at least a couple of months along. A waitress at Zen Palate confirmed that Winters and Blackwell can often be seen eating there. _

_Despite the fact that she has a daughter from a previous marriage, not everyone is surprised to see Blackwell in a same sex relationship. Her marriage with National Geographic photographer Christopher Darren ended four years ago amid allegations that Blackwell had cheated. These suspicions were later confirmed by a statement from Blackwell. The actress had a fling with costume designer Flora Krier, which led to the dissolution of her already rocky relationship with Darren. The two are still on good terms for the sake of their daughter..._

There was more left to read, but Irene sat frozen, her heart constricting at the new information. Teresa had cheated on Chris. That was why they had divorced. Why he had wanted one. The hand holding the magazine shook, and she swallowed hard. Her whole body felt numb, and she thought she might vomit. A cheater. Teresa was a cheater. Irene shuddered. Of her three previous relationships, two had cheated on her. Elda, whom the magazine had named, and her first, a girl she had dated through high school and some of college named Danielle. Galatea had been a short one, only a few months, and they had never moved very far in their sexual relationship. Both of them had realized that they were better as friends, and Irene still had a good relationship with her, even if they did not see each other often.

But the other two had broken her heart. Elda had cheated on her with a man, and she had found out that Danielle had been with several men and women during their relationship. They were the reasons why she had gone years without a relationship, why she had thrown herself so fully and completely into her work.

The hand on her shoulder startled her, and she dropped the magazine.

"Ms. Winters?" She looked up to see one of the nurses. "Your sister-in-law is out of surgery."

"The baby?"

"They're both doing fine," the woman said with a smile. For a moment, Irene forgot her personal pain, and let a smile cross her lips. "A healthy baby girl. Seven pounds, six ounces."

"Can I see them yet?"

"We want to give Sharon a little while to recover. I'll let you know." Irene nodded. Once the nurse was gone, she leaned down to pick up the magazine, and her brief elation of joy diminished as she remembered the new revelation. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and walked down the hall where she might have some privacy. When she was sure she was alone, Irene dialed Teresa's number, knowing that she was waiting for news about the baby. The phone rang once...twice...three times...

"_Irene? How's Sharon? How's the baby?"_ Teresa's voice made Irene's stomach twist into knots.

"They had to do a C-Section, but they're both fine now," Irene said, knowing that her voice was shaking and that Teresa would hear it. "I haven't been in to see them, yet, but I needed to call you."

"_Irene," _Teresa said cautiously. _"What's wrong?"_

"While I was in the waiting room, I read the article from _Us Weekly_." She took a deep breath. "You cheated on Chris." There was silence for a few moments.

"_Yes. I did."_

"You didn't think that was something you should tell me?" Irene struggled to keep her voice calm and steady.

"_I thought you knew."_ Teresa sounded confused.

"How would I have known?" Irene asked harshly. "I can't ready minds!"

"_Everyone knows,"_ Teresa said. _"It was all over the magazines and the news when it happened. Nothing I do is private, and I told you that at the beginning. I never thought that there was a possibility that you wouldn't already know."_ Irene slumped against the wall, bringing her hand up to rub her brows.

"I don't...I don't read the magazines. I never have. I don't keep up with that kind of thing." She closed her eyes briefly. She knew now that she would have to tell Teresa why this was such a big deal for her. "I know I've skirted around this before, but I've been...I've been cheated on. Twice." Teresa sighed on the other end of the line.

"_I'm so sorry, Irene. I didn't know. God. I see why this would be so upsetting. How about I call Clare's nanny, and I come over to your place and we talk about this?"_

"I don't know when I'll be done here." She wanted to stay until she was sure Sharon and the baby were alright. She was also unsure if she really wanted to have Teresa in her home when she felt so vulnerable.

"_I don't care how late it is,"_ Teresa said firmly._ "I won't let you go to bed tonight without getting the full story. The magazines...they don't know what really happened. Okay? Okay, Irene?"_ Irene could not answer for a moment. _"Please give me a chance to explain before jumping to conclusions. Trust me enough for that."_

Irene nodded, then remembered Teresa would not be able to see. "Okay. I'll...I'll call you when I'm home."

"_You promise?"_

"Yeah. I promise." She lost her nerve and hung up, leaning her head back against the wall before walking back into the waiting room. A nurse was there waiting to take her back to see Sharon and Paul. The baby, named Arlette after Irene and Paul's mother, was a beautiful little girl with a full head of dark hair already. Irene stayed with them for a while until she saw that Sharon was ready to sleep exhausted by the day's efforts. She excused herself and walked down to the street with Paul.

"Are you okay, Ren?" he asked in the elevator. "You seemed a little distracted."

"I'm fine," she assured him with a small smile that she knew had to look fake. "Just some personal stuff."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"If she hurts you like Danielle did..." Paul let the threat hang in the air. They both knew there was little he would be able to do, but Irene still appreciated the sentiment.

"It's not like that. I wouldn't be stupid enough to do that again."

Paul wrapped her in a loose hug. "Thanks for being here today. I hope everything works out with Teresa. You seem so happy with her." She nodded and gave his hand a brief squeeze before stepping outside to hail a cab. The ride back to her building was long and tense, and when she was in her kitchen she stared at her phone for a good half hour before calling Teresa. It was nearly eleven at night.

"_Irene?"_

"I'm home now." She left it short and simple.

"_Okay. I'll be there soon."_ She heard the phone click and then set it down on the table. After a moment, she got up to pour herself a glass of wine, hoping that it would relax her nerves. It was half empty by the time Teresa knocked on the door. Irene let her in.

"How did you get up?"

"I came in at the same time as your downstairs neighbor." Teresa's eyes glanced around the place quickly, taking in the spartan decoration before landing back on Irene. "Where do you want to talk?"

"The living room." She led the way, stopping in the kitchen for the rest of her wine before settling into one of the chairs placed around the seldom used television. Teresa lowered herself into the one across from her, not too close. She looked apprehensively at Irene.

"Flora was working on the movie I was doing at the time," she began. "Chris and I were having a rough time. I know that's not an excuse," she said quickly as Irene opened her mouth to protest. "I know that. We had been having problems for a long time, and we should have broken up before then. He was always gone, and I was always gone, and I never should have married him in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"We got married because ….God, because I thought I loved him and my parents didn't approve, and I was young and defiant and stupid. And then Clare was born, and I felt like I had to try and make it work for her sake. But I...I've always been more attracted to women. Always. But I tried so hard to ignore that, and I thought Chris was my ticket to married bliss. I would get married and have kids and do everything I was supposed to. But it wasn't what I wanted." She took a moment to breathe deeply, keeping her eyes on Irene. "When I met Flora, my marriage was already over in every sense except the legal one. I know I should have waited, but I was so lonely, and she was kind. It was only a few times, and I told Chris as soon as I got back home. I couldn't live with the guilt. He took it better than I expected, but that was the end of it. He filed for divorce that week. It was amicable. There were no allegations, no mudslinging. I don't know how the press found out about Flora. I know she never said anything, and neither did Chris."

Irene sat stiffly in her chair. She was unsure what to think. It was not an excuse, she knew that. But it was a reason. It was a reason that Irene actually understood. Perhaps she did not approve, and as someone who had been in Chris's position, she knew that it had to have hurt him, no matter what the state of their relationship had been. The part of her that had been hurt like that was suddenly scared of Teresa. Scared of how badly the other woman could hurt her now.

"Irene? Please say something." Teresa bit her lip nervously.

"I...think I need some time," Irene said quietly.

"Oh. Okay." Teresa nodded. "I understand." She stood to leave.

"Teresa..." The actress turned her head back to look at Irene over her shoulder. "I just need time. That's all. I need to process this." Teresa closed her eyes briefly.

"Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow sometime. I promise." Teresa nodded once more in response and let herself out. Irene sighed and went to change into her night clothes. It took her hours to get to sleep and when she did, her dreams were frightening and stressful. She woke up feeling even less rested than she had before. Thankfully, it was a Saturday so she did not have to go into work. She doubted she would have been much use. She cooked herself breakfast, something she had learned how to do from Teresa, and sat down to think.

Part of her was hurt that Teresa had not told her, but the rational part of her realized that it was not a lie because Teresa had honesty not thought that she needed to disclose that information. It was on her Wikipedia page. Irene had checked. It was common knowledge, and she could not blame Teresa for her own ignorance. Still, it would have been nice if Teresa had at least brought it up. It was still something they should have discussed.

The larger part of her was more scared of what had actually happened than of Teresa's lack of disclosure. She reasoned that Teresa's marriage with Chris had never been strong, that her infidelity had been because she was unhappy and looking for comfort. It was not like what Elda and Danielle had done to her. It was very different, and she really did not think that Teresa would do that to her. She seemed sincere in everything she said to Irene, really and truly sincere. From all the small hints, from the way Teresa's mother reacted, from the way Clare had looked at her at dinner, from the terrified look in Teresa's eyes as she explained herself, Irene knew that their relationship, as short as it had been, was much deeper than it had ever been with Chris. She knew that deep down.

And that was what mattered.

Irene threw on some clothes and decided to walk around the city. She pulled a hat on over her ears, and wrapped a scarf around her neck, trying her best to hide her face. Normally, the photogs were milder in New York, but with the whole thing still so knew to the media, it was possible that they would be looking for her. She walked for blocks and blocks, trying to clear her mind. Somehow, she found herself outside Teresa's building. Taking it as a sign, she pulled out her phone to call the woman in question.

"_Hey."_ Teresa's voice was small and apprehensive.

"Hey. I've been thinking."

"_Yeah. I...Have you..."_

"I'm still a little mixed up," Irene admitted. "It's a lot to take in."

"_I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think...I should have said something sooner."_

"Well, we can't change the past. What happened, happened, and now all we can do is move on from that." Irene was surprised by how sure she felt. "It may take me a while to fully trust you again, but I want to give you the chance to let me. I love you, and I like Clare, and I want to meet your parents, and I want you to meet Paul and Sharon and the baby."

"_I want that, too. After I got home last night, I was so scared that I had really screwed this up."_ Irene heard Teresa sigh heavily. _"I thought I had lost you. I love you, Irene, and I know it's going to be hard with all the media attention, and I am so sorry for that. I know it's what I signed up for, but I know it's not what you wanted for yourself."_

"I can handle it, Teresa," she said, and she actually believed herself. "I can do it."

"_Are you...Are you busy right now?"_

"Actually, no. I was taking a walk."

"_Where are you? I could come get you."_

"No need. I'm actually right outside."

"_Oh. Well...you should come up. That is...if you want to. Clare's at her father's for the weekend."_

Irene let herself smile. "Okay." The doorman knew her by now and let her in, and she stepped into the elevator, heart settled once more. They would need to talk about this some more, of course, but she was confident they would get through it.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Still working on this one too for all my Claymore people.

* * *

><p>"But what if she hates me?" Irene asked again as they dragged their luggage through the airport.<p>

"Really, it's my dad you should be worried about," Teresa said, ushering Clare along in front of her. "Mom already likes you." She had already spent the entire fight assuring Irene of this.

"That's not exactly making me feel better."

"It'll be fine, Irene," Clare piped in. "If I like you, then Grandma will too. Or she'll pretend she does to make me happy. And Pops will definitely like you. He likes quiet, which is why I don't know why he married Grandma." Teresa rolled her eyes.

"I'm just really nervous."

"I know," Teresa said, giving Irene a small smile. "But you'll be fine. I promise. I'll make sure they're nice to you. Mom already promised that she'll tone it down a few notches." They stepped out into the mild Texas air, so different from the harsh New York winter they had left behind. Here, Irene only needed a light coat instead of the heavy one she had been wearing for the last month. She sighed and followed Teresa to the rental car counter. Teresa had, of course, insisted that she drive herself. It took longer than either of them would have liked, but eventually Teresa procured the desired car.

"I just don't understand," she complained as they piled in, luggage stuffed into the trunk. "I arranged this weeks ago. Why is it so hard for them to have the car I wanted?"

"It is the holidays," Irene said diplomatically. "Mix ups happen." Teresa grumbled a bit more, but her mood improved vastly once she was on the road, navigating through Austin traffic like a pro. Irene looked out the windows at the rows and rows of houses that passed by, her anxiety growing with each one. Each house brought her closer and closer to meeting Teresa's parents. She had spent the last couple of months getting to know Clare, becoming a more fixed figure in the girl's life. They got along rather well, though Irene kept herself at a distance, never trying to seem like another parent. Clare already had two of those, and she did not need another one. Irene was more like an aunt of sorts. Or something like that. She was still unsure herself.

"Remember Clare," Teresa was saying. "'Yes Ma'am, no Ma'am, yes Sir, no Sir.'"

"Yeah, yeah," Clare muttered, crossing her arms in the back seat.

"They won't be used to that New York attitude you were so quick to pick up. Be polite."

Clare sighed heavily. "Fine."

Teresa narrowed her eyes. "I liked it better when you were pretending you were nice for Irene."

Clare stuck out her tongue in response. Normally, their interactions made Irene laugh, but her stomach was in knots as they drove through the suburbs. Soon, they turned into a very affluent neighborhood, and Teresa slowed down to pull up on the street in front of a large brick home. She put the car in park and shut off the engine.

"Okay. We're here." She turned to Irene. "You'll be fine." Irene nodded and opened the door. She followed Teresa to the trunk to get her bag while Clare shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders.

"Teresa, baby? Is that you?" They all looked up at the voice. A woman in her late fifties or early sixties was walking down the steps of the house. If she had not already known, it would have been obvious that this was Teresa's mother. Despite the fact that her hair was the same color as Clare's, her face was almost exactly an older version of Teresa's.

"No, Mama. It's Marlon Brando," Teresa called back, but she smiled and met her mother with a hug. Teresa, even without heels on, stood several inches taller than her mother, and Irene could tell this was where Teresa got her curves.

"Hi Grandma," Clare said from behind them.

"Oh, Darlin', look how tall you are!" She bent down to hug Clare. "I swear you get taller every time I see you."

"That's kind of how it works, Mama," Teresa said as she pulled the luggage out.

"Your sarcasm is noted and unappreciated, Teresa." She rolled her eyes, and Irene wondered if that was a genetically inherited trait. "Oh! And you must be Irene!" Irene held out her hand, but was pulled into a tight hug instead. "None of that! It is so wonderful to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you, as well, Mrs. Farrell." Teresa had told her that like most actresses, Blackwell was not her real name. Her agent had picked it for her.

"Honey, please. Call me Marianne," Teresa's mother insisted. "Mrs. Farrell is my husband's mother, the old witch. May she rest in peace."

"Grams isn't dead yet," Clare said in confusion.

"Wishful thinking, Darlin'."

"Mama," Teresa hissed. "Stop saying things like that about Grams!" She shut the trunk and locked the car.

"That old harpy has it coming," Marianne huffed, picking up Clare's suitcase and ushering them all up the drive to the house. "She always does her best to make my life a living hell."

"That's because you never even tried to get along with her," Teresa reminded her. "I hope you don't plan on causing another scene this year. Last year's turkey fiasco was enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much."

"She started it."

"God, you two are worse than children." Teresa followed her mother into the house, beckoning to Irene and leading her into the large kitchen. Marianne ignored her.

"John," she called into the house. "They're here." When John Farrell walked in, Irene saw where Teresa got her height. He was a very tall man, with a slight build and a serious face. But his eyes softened and his mouth crinkled up into a smile when he saw his daughter and granddaughter.

"How are my girls?"

"Pops!" Clare threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight. Irene stood awkwardly behind Marianne as John moved from Clare to Teresa. She felt out of place in the family reunion.

"Dad," Teresa said as she pulled back. "I want you to meet Irene." She walked over and put her hand on Irene's back, pushing her forward. Irene gave a small smile and held out her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Sir," she said as respectfully as she could. John took her hand in his, grasping it firmly.

"The pleasure's all mine, Irene," he said, returning her smile. "It's good to finally meet the person who's been making Teresa so happy lately." Irene blushed slightly.

"She couldn't stop talking about you at Thanksgiving," Marianne said in a stage whisper for all to hear. Teresa glared at her.

"Mom!"

"What?" Marianne held up her hands innocently. "It's true."

"Doesn't mean that you have to tell everyone." Teresa looked back at Irene apologetically.

"Well, let's get y'all settled in your rooms," Marianne said as a way to change the subject. "Clare, honey, you know where your room is. Teresa, you and Irene can take the guest bedroom on the third floor." Clare dashed up the stairs, and Teresa and Irene followed at a slower pace, lugging their bags up to the top floor. The room was spacious and well decorated, though it did not look as if it were used all that often.

"Is Karen staying here?" Teresa asked, referring to her other sister.

"Yes. She and Daniel are supposed to get here tomorrow," Teresa's mother informed them. "Trina will bunk with Clare, and Jr's going to sleep on the couch." Trina and Jr were Clare's cousins, Karen's children. Trina was thirteen or fourteen, Irene couldn't remember, and Jr was a senior in high school.

Teresa put her luggage on the bed, and Irene followed her lead.

"I made y'all some snacks," Marianne continued. "I know that airplane food's not so good."

"They don't serve food on such a short flight, Mom," Teresa said as she started to unpack. "And we were in first class, anyway."

"Well, then all the more reason for you to eat!"

"Fine, Mama. We'll be down in just a bit, alright?"

"Okay, okay." Marianne retreated, shutting the door gently behind her. Teresa turned to Irene.

"So?"

"I don't know. You tell me. You know them better."

Teresa finished putting her clothes in the closet and cocked her head. "Well, I knew Mom would like you, and it seems I was right. And Dad reacted favorably. He'll need more time to get to know you, though."

"What about your brother and sister?"

"Karen will love you, I'm sure," Teresa said. "She had a gay best friend all through high school. Mom thought they were dating for the longest time, even when he and Karen went to see Cats, and he knew all the songs." Irene smiled slightly at the thought.

"Well, that's comforting. What about your brother?"

"I've already told you, I don't know." Teresa came and rested her hands on Irene's shoulders. "He and I never really talk all that much, and when I told him, well...It wasn't pretty."

"I'm sorry," Irene said softly. "I don't want to come between you and your family."

"Stop that. If he doesn't like it, he can stuff it," Teresa said, placing a soft kiss on Irene's lips. A knock on the door interrupted them, and they did not have enough time to break apart before Teresa's mother stepped inside.

"Oh," she said, eyes wide, her hand coming up to cover her mouth daintily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Irene blushed furiously, looking down at her feet. "I was just letting you know that you're father's taking Clare out to the stables for a few hours."

"Okay, Mama," Teresa said, and Marianne shut the door again. "Hey, Irene. Stop looking so mortified."

"But your mother-"

"Saw me kissing my girlfriend. No big deal." Teresa placed a hand under Irene's chin, lifting her face so that their eyes met. "Irene. It's fine. She was a little startled, but that's all. She won't hate you."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Now let's go downstairs." She placed her hands on Irene's hips and steered her out the door. "I bet she's made her famous spinach dip. You won't want to miss this." Teresa kept a hand on her back the entire way. They were just now getting back to a really good place in their relationship. Irene had gotten back into the habit of guarding herself since discovering the reason for Teresa's divorce. For weeks, she found reasons to stay a little more distant, claiming that she was busy with work, or that she needed to do something for Paul and Sharon. After a month of that, a month of Teresa being patient and understanding, Irene had let herself open up again. It was slow, but eventually, she got back to herself and let Teresa back in.

"I do like spinach dip," Irene said as they walked down the stairs. Teresa leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly before they stepped into the kitchen. Teresa's mother was behind the counter, pulling cookies out of the oven.

"Mom," Teresa groaned. "I told you I can't have cookies. I'm getting ready for a role, and I have to be super fit."

"Darlin', you're going to be eating all kinds of things tomorrow," Marianne said as she placed the cookies on cooling racks. Teresa sat down on a stool at the counter and reached out to take one. Marianne slapped her hand away. "You'll burn the roof of your mouth. And I thought you weren't having any."

"I lied." She patted the stool next to her, and Irene sat down. "My trainer can just yell at me extra."

"Tell me, Irene," Marianne redirected, pulling a bowl out of the fridge. Irene saw it was indeed spinach dip. "Have you ever been to Texas before?" She brought out some crackers from the pantry and spread them on a plate next to the dip. Teresa immediately grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth.

"Once. For business." Irene folded her hands in her lap. "We didn't get to see much of the city."

"Which city?"

"Houston."

"That place is a dump," Marianne informed her.

"It is not," Teresa said, taking another cracker. "You just don't like it because that's where Aunt Carol Anne lives."

"She's a judgmental hag, just like her mother," Marianne said, leaning over the counter. "I hate your father's family."

"I'll admit, they're not my favorite people," Teresa agreed. "But I wish you would tone it down in front of Clare. Grams is always good to her and Aunt Carol Anne always takes her out riding when we're there." Marianne sighed deeply.

"Oh, fine, Sugah. I'll do my best. Here, Irene, try some of the dip."

"It's freaking awesome," Teresa said through a mouthful.

"Okay." Irene timidly reached out and took a cracker, got some dip and took a bite. Two identical pairs of dark eyes watched her as she chewed. "That's really good," she finally said after swallowing.

"It's my secret recipe. My Mama taught me and then I taught Teresa. She's never made it for you?"

"No. Not yet." She glanced curiously at Teresa.

"I was going to, but..." She sighed. "I just don't make it as good as you, Mama."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Marianne said with a smile. Irene could see the clear affection in her eyes as she looked at Teresa. To her surprise, it did not go away when she turned her gaze to Irene. "She's really actually good at it. She's just a perfectionist."

Irene raised an eyebrow. "You? A perfectionist?" She thought back to Teresa's bedroom, to the clothes strewn about, to the nightstand that almost always had an empty soda can atop it. The woman's apartment was always in a state of dishevelment unless it was the day after the maid came.

"In my craft, Irene," Teresa stressed, placing a dramatic hand over her heart. "I take my craft very seriously."

"Cooking is your craft?"

"It's a craft, and I do it."

"I'll remember that in the future," Irene said, taking another cracker. Marianne smiled.

"Teresa told me that your brother and his wife just had their first baby."

"That's right," Irene said, letting herself smile. "She's really lovely, and a good baby, too. Not fussy or anything."

"Well, honey, I sure hope you brought pictures."

"I have some on my phone," she said sheepishly. Normally she was not so susceptible to mush, but little Arlette had stolen her heart. "Oh, I think I left it upstairs." She hopped off her stool and dashed up the two flights of stairs to dig around in her purse for her phone. Once she had it, she descended the stairs, stopping short when she heard Teresa and her mother talking.

"...very nice, Teresa. I'm really happy for you."

"I'm just glad you like her. I was worried that it would be really awkward."

"I can't make any promises about your brother, but the rest of us are there for you, baby."

"Dad, too? Every time I talk to him, he's distant. I can't tell if he's okay with this." Irene frowned. She had not known that Teresa was so worried about her father's approval.

"He's trying, sweetheart. He really is. It's been tough on him, but he is happy for you. We can both see how this is so much better than it was with Clare's father."

"He has a name, Mom. And remember, that was my fault, not his. He didn't do anything wrong."

"I know, baby." Marianne sounded tired, and Irene wondered if it was a conversation they had had before. "But Irene is so much nicer."

"Yeah, she is." Irene could almost imagine the dopey smile on Teresa's face. "I really love her, Mama. I don't want anyone to screw this up. Not me, and certainly not Mathew."

"If Irene loves you like you think she does, then nothing your brother says is going to chase her away. He's just a little touchy about the whole relationship thing. You know that."

"Just because he can't get a girl doesn't mean that he can take it out on mine." Irene decided that she had listened enough, and took the next step.

"I found it," she called out, giving them time to stop talking before she entered the kitchen. She pulled up the pictures of Arlette and handed the phone to Marianne.

"Oh, she is just too precious!" the older woman gushed. "Look at those big blue eyes! And all that hair. Teresa was the same way. I swear she came out with more hair on her head than I have ever seen on a newborn." Irene laughed.

"Well, Arlette's must come from her mother because both Paul and I were bald." She ran a hand through her hair subconsciously. "I suppose we just don't have great hair genes in my family." Marianne's eyes swept quickly over Irene's head, taking in the shining silver hair.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Darlin'. I think it's quite striking."

"So do I," Teresa added, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Irene hated that she blushed furiously at their words. The color in her cheeks just made Teresa smile wider.

Irene coughed awkwardly. "I suppose it has its advantages. It certainly gives me some credibility with some of our older clients. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to establish myself. Even with my father's name behind me. There were plenty of girls in my graduating class who were just as talented as I was who never got a chance to show what they could do." Teresa was looking at her with concern, while Marianne nodded in agreement.

"You're preaching to the choir, honey. When I married Teresa's father, I tried getting into the workforce, but it just never happened for me."

"That's because the dinosaurs were still around, and you needed to stay home to guard the cave," Teresa said with a smirk.

"That was only a few years before you were born," Marianne shot back, "so I would watch my mouth if I were you." She raised a brow.

"It was ten years, Mama."

"Are you calling me old?"

"I think that was heavily implied, yes."

"You better watch it, young lady."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make sure to give Clare a couple of chocolate bars right before you leave for the airport."

"You wouldn't dare," Teresa said, scandalized. "You know how hyper she gets!"

"Maybe then you'll think twice before insulting your mother, who loves you so much."

"Threats and then a guilt trip." Teresa shook her head, impressed. "Well played."

"Well, I see where Clare gets it," Irene commented as she took another cracker.

"Her stunning wit?" Teresa clarified with a toss of her hair.

"Her dripping sarcasm," Irene said. Marianne let out a sparkling laugh that sounded so much like Teresa's.

"That child is going to be a handful when she hits puberty."

Teresa groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm still thinking about shipping her off to boarding school"

Irene tensed for a moment as unpleasant memories tickled the back of her mind, and she looked down at her lap.

"Oh, Irene, I didn't..." Teresa placed a hand on her knee and bit her lip. "I forgot you don't like boarding schools." She turned back to her mother and mouthed something that Irene could not quite catch. She knew it had to be some sort of explanation because Marianne's mouth formed a small 'O,' and she nodded.

"It's fine," Irene assured them with a small smile. "And you don't have to go whispering about it. It's a typical sad little rich girl story. Parents who didn't have time for me and all that." She hated that Marianne's eyes were filled with concern. Hated it and loved it at the same time. Maybe through Teresa, she could gain a mother to help fill the void left by the one she had lost. "Not that my mother didn't love me or anything," she said hurriedly. "She was just always working."

"And you father?" Marianne asked before Teresa could stop her.

"Mom, the dad's not a great subject," Teresa hissed.

"It's okay, Teresa. My father was busy running his little empire," Irene said, regretting how much bitterness was able to creep into her voice. "He wasn't-isn't pleased with my...with what he calls my 'life choices.'" She glanced at Teresa almost apologetically. She was not sure how Marianne really felt about the situation, if she was truly alright with Teresa dating a woman, and she was not sure if it was appropriate to discuss. After all, she had only known Marianne for less than an hour. "He doesn't approve."

"Oh." Marianne seemed to have some trouble finding what words to say, and Irene cursed her chronic social awkwardness. Sometimes she really did not know when to keep her mouth shut.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, sweetheart, it's not that at all," Marianne said, moving around the counter to take Irene's hands in her own. The younger woman did not know how to react, not being accustomed to people invading her personal space. "I just don't really know how to respond to that without insulting your father."

Irene looked into her eyes, which she saw now were a dark green instead of brown like Teresa's, and tried to make sense of what she was feeling. This woman whom she had only just met already cared more about her feelings than her own father.

"You can insult him all you want," Irene managed. "Teresa does all the time." Marianne turned to glare at her daughter.

"Have I taught you no manners at all?"

"Irene said I could!" Teresa protested. "Look, I'll show you. Irene, your father is a selfish bastard who has a stick so far up his ass that Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be able to find it." Marianne stared at her daughter with wide, horrified eyes.

"Teresa!"

"What?"

"That was so incredibly-"

"True," Irene finished, rescuing Teresa. "Everything she said is true. It's actually a little toned down than what she normally says." They shared a smile. "Really, I don't mind. I wish I had the courage to say those things myself."

Marianne shook her head disapprovingly, though Irene was unsure if it was at them or at her father. "Irene, I'm going to have to show you some true southern hospitality, then. Goodness." She continued shaking her head as she walked back around to open the fridge.

"Oh no," Teresa muttered.

"What?"

"She's going to start pulling out the comfort food. If she can't fix a problem, she just feeds you and hopes it makes you feel better."

"Oh." Irene watched as Marianne took out a casserole dish and turned the oven on.

"Do you like macaroni and cheese, Irene?"

"I um... I haven't ever had it." Both of the other women turned to stare at her in shock.

"You're joking, right?" Teresa asked. "How is that even possible?"

"We just... never had it, I guess," Irene said, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. "I mean, Father said that the cooks were paid too much to make something like that and they never served it at school. Our chef packed my lunch anyway."

"That might be the saddest thing I have ever heard," Marianne lamented. "Practically child abuse. Well, Darlin, we're going to have to fix that. Just give me twenty minutes, and I'll have this ready."

"You'll never want to eat anything else ever again," Teresa warned her. "I swear she puts crack in it."

"I do not, Teresa. That would ruin the flavor balance."

Teresa looked over at Irene while her mother's back was turned and mouthed _she's lying_. Irene grinned, happy that the conversation had moved away from her uncomfortable family life. She was jealous of Teresa's. Her father had had years to come to terms with her sexuality and still could not accept it, and Teresa's parents were both making a valiant effort. They had both been kind to Irene, and she was starting to feel more relaxed with Marianne, who really was so much like Teresa and Clare.

It turned out that macaroni and cheese was everything Marianne had said and more. Irene had to be very conscious of how much she ate, knowing that there would be dinner later. Teresa and Marianne watched her with amusement the whole time, each having their fair share of the dish. They chatted about this and that, mostly other celebrities that Teresa knew and Marianne pretended to know. Irene was truly relaxed by the time Clare and John returned. Her tension did not return even though Teresa's father was back. John did everything he could to make her feel at ease. She felt like maybe she would be able to face the rest of Teresa's family, knowing that her parents stood behind her.

She was still happy when she and Teresa retired for bed late that night. They had stayed up discussing politics and economics with John and Marianne. Irene was pleased to discover that she had a lot in common with them.

"So," Teresa began as she snuggled up against Irene in the double bed, so much smaller than the one they normally used. "I think they like you."

"I like them, too," Irene said, tilting her head down to place a soft kiss on Teresa's dark curls. "Your mom is so sweet, and I appreciate the effort you father is making."

"Mmmm. I think he's going to be okay with this," she said, letting her lips brush Irene's neck. "You really won him over tonight with all that fancy business talk. He's a sucker for that kind of stuff."

"It was fun. It's not often that I get to talk about that with someone who's not trying to get something from me."

"Hey, we talk about business sometimes," Teresa pouted.

"Teresa, you're pretty good at it, but I know that most of the time you don't understand what I'm saying."

"Is it that obvious?"

"As obvious as it is when I try to talk about acting with you."

Teresa smiled against her neck and then trailed her lips down to Irene's collarbone. "But you're so cute when you're trying to pretend like you know what you're talking about." She paused. "Speaking of which, we need to get dresses for the Golden Globes when we get back home."

"Are you sure you want me to go?"

"Irene, we've been over this. We have to make our first public appearance sometime, and what better place than one where the press interaction is limited, and I get to show you off to everyone?"

"If you're certain." Irene was more than a little nervous. She had never been to an event so big or so very televised.

"It will be fine. The interviews are already set up, and they've all been instructed to just kind of gloss over the whole gay thing. Remember, I'm going on Ellen right before to cover all that."

"I know." Irene shifted them so that she had her head tucked under Teresa's chin. She wanted to be held for a while.

"You won't have to talk that much. And it will give us good practice for the Oscars."

"A little cocky, aren't we? The nominations aren't for almost two months."

"Well, we can pretty much be sure that I'll be there. They're calling it the performance of a lifetime." Teresa made a dramatic arching motion with her arm. Right before she and Irene had met, Teresa had been in a movie about the last Tsars of Russia, playing the Tsar's wife, Alexandra who had been the one to trust the infamous Rasputin. Irene had seen the film, and been impressed with it, especially with Teresa. She had fully transformed into the character, bringing a new dimension to the familiar history. Her raw emotion had been beautiful to watch.

"Well, aren't you confident."

"Oh, hush." Teresa leaned down to kiss her softly. "I have to warn you, Mom's probably going to make us get up early, so we might want to go to sleep now."

"Fine," Irene said. "It's been a long day, anyway. I hate flying."

"Who doesn't?"

Irene made a noise of agreement before leaning over Teresa to turn out the light. In the dark, she pressed herself close to her girlfriend, her lover, and settled in for sleep.

"I love you, Teresa."

"I love you, too, Irene."


End file.
